Look At Your Face in the Mirror
by Irinazure
Summary: OCs. Sequel to A Flower Made Out of Dust. She had dreamed of happiness, she had dreamed of love, only to find her dreams and hopes shattered like the surface of a mirror. If you break a mirror you get seven years of misfortune. If you break a heart...HIATUS
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone! As the demand for a sequel was quite clear I've decided to continue the story. So welcome back to the readers of _A Flower_, and to new readers: Welcome. I'll try to explain as much things as possible, but I think it'd be better to have read _A Flower_ before continuing with _The Mirror_. Oh, and I have no actual idea about what I want to do with this one, so it might take some days now and then for me to find some sort of inspiration (wow, that sounds cheesy :).) Any way, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Prologue<strong>

Knives cutting through her heart. Yes, what a good way to describe the feeling, the pain in her chest. But she would prefer real knives to that. With real knives in her heart she would die in a matter of seconds, but with this…she would not die. Not immediately any way. No, it would take months, even years. It was not something that injured her on the outside, but something that destroyed her from the inside. Slowly and invisible.

She had known it from the start. She had always known it. But she had fought against those thoughts, had hoped that it would be different. After all, what was she? She was a peasant's daughter with neither money, nor connections. Her education was passable at best. She had no talents, was no great beauty. What had she been thinking?

What were the chances of somebody like her to win and keep the heart of somebody like him? She was nothing and he was everything. He had seen the world, had experience in matters to which she was yet ignorant.

She shivered as the cold sea breeze hit her upon leaving her cabin. Slowly she walked towards the ship's rail. The white cliffs of Marseille, sparkling against the dark sky of that spring morning, awaited her arrival. The sun was just about to rise.

She had promised herself to never let go of him again. Perhaps it had never been in her power to make that promise after all.


	2. A Knock on the Door

A/N: Hi! So that's the actual first chap. As some of you know English is not my native language so I apologize for possible mistakes in the text. Feel free to point them out to me:). Enjoy reading and if you like please leave a review. Tell me what you think.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: A Knock on the Door<strong>

It was a sunny morning in May. The sun was already sending its hot rays into every corner of France, boding the beginning of a new day. Although it was still early, the heat was unbearable for a Madame Danglars. The young woman woke up with a groan and as soon as she opened her eyes she felt the familiar nausea.

It was a simple routine now – waking up and heading towards the chamber pot in the other corner of her room. Her limbs trembled and cold sweat appeared on her forehead, but her lips were grazed by a smile.

"Having no mercy for your poor Mama?" Delicately she placed both hands on her swollen belly. It was now impossible to overlook – inside of her the fruit of the love between her husband and herself grew, getting stronger day by day.

Only a few more weeks. She hoped that Michel would return back in time for the birth. She did not want to be alone with his mother when the time came. Madame Danglars, her mother-in-law, had clearly altered her behaviour towards her. She was now accepted by her as the wife of a merchant sailor, of her precious son. But there was still an awkwardness between the two women and it probably would exist for ever. She guessed that she could call herself lucky. There were so many women who did not have the great fortune of being married to the man they love and being accepted by the man's family.

After washing herself with the cool rose-scented water her maid Margo had prepared the day before, she dressed and went downstairs. Margo had already left for the market and Maria the cook had went to visit her family in the countryside. She guessed that Madame and her sister-in-law Hortense were still asleep.

She stepped into the parlor, and breathed in the scent of fresh bread and flowers that hung in the air. Of course Marseille was not a particularly clean city, although better than Paris. But the Danglars family had the fortune of living in a good neighborhood. A baker had his store right in front of their house, and not two blocks away had a perfumer settled down. The putrid smells of city life had no chance against the wonderful fresh aromas. Yes, Christine Danglars could call herself very fortunate.

Suddenly a knock was heard coming from the entrance. She frowned. The servants would never knock. And it was far too early for polite calls. Or maybe…had something happened to Michel? Was it a sailor?

She fought against the thought and went to open the door, proud at how controlled her steppes sounded against the stone floor. No, she was not nervous.

On opening her heart skipped a beat. There was no sailor standing in front of her, but a young woman with white skin and dark auburn hair. Her fingers were wrapped around a small pouch and her clothes looked too fine for a place like this. Her gown was of an exquisite forest green satin, but barely visible under the grey cloak she was wearing over her shoulders. Christine could not believe it.

"Georgie? Is...is this really you?"

"Can I come in?" A silent voice, barely more than a whisper, asked. There was exhaustion in it and it surprised Christine. She opened the door wider and led the visitor to the sitting parlor.

"I cannot believe it. What are you doing here? After you left I did not expect to see you for at least a year, despite your promise." Her surprise was great. "Please, do sit down. Tell me, is everything alright? How is Cináed?"

She realized that she had made a mistake as soon as the words left her lips. The woman's countenance changed to the worse. Only now did Christine see the dark circles under those dark brown eyes, the blank look in them frightening her. The pearl white skin was now too white, the slender figure now too slender. "Georgiana, is everything alright?"

She looked into her sister's face.

Well, technically she was not her sister. When her father had found the starving girl on the streets of Marseille more than ten years ago she had rejoiced at the thought of having a sister. Of course she loved her brother dearly, her stubborn and stupid Edmond, but for a young girl it was not the same as having a sister. And in the last ten years they had become more than sisters. They were best friends, confidents. They trusted each other.

Georgiana only looked down to her feet, her fingers playing with a strand of dark hair. Christine had always admired the colour. She herself had blond curls, beaming like gold in the sunlight, and deep blue eyes. Everyone in her family possessed these attributes. Georgiana, with her dark eyes and hair had always stood out, but in a good way. The sweet memories of their childhood in the hills and valleys of the Provence always made her smile.

But now she could not smile. With worrying looks she tried to find an explanation in Georgiana's eyes. It was as if looking at a corpse, no trace of life was to be found in those dark pools. "Georgiana, you scare me. Please, has something happened?"

"No." Her voice was scarcely audible. "Nothing happened."

"Then what is it? Why are you here? You left not five months ago."

No answer came. Silence spread itself over the room. Then finally she opened her lips. "Nothing. Can I stay with you?"

"Of course, but…What is it?"

"Can I stay with you?"

Christine was confused. Was she alone here? Where was Cináed? Did something happen between them? "Yes, of course you can stay here." She frowned.

A faint sight left Georgiana's lips and she seemed to relax a bit. "Thank you."

Christine sent her a smile, but she knew that it did not reach her eyes. "Don't thank me for this, ma seur."

She led Georgiana to a guest chamber, and left her alone to rest a while. The morning passed and soon the other habitants of the house woke up. Margo returned from the market with a basket full vegetables and discussing the newest gossip and rumors with another maid. Madame Danglars had new instructions for Christine and the cook, everything to guarantee the unborn child's health and well-being, of course.

Everyone was curious at Georgiana's sudden visit, but noon came and she did not show up. When she did not join them by evening Christine sent a tray to her room.

Somehow she was not surprised when the next morning Margot brought the untouched food downstairs. What happened to her sister? To her witty smiling Georgie? Her sister had gone through a lot that passed year. Christine had been shocked when she had learned the truth.

It had been October when her brother had been abducted by a horrid creature, a giant black wolf. She herself had been in the city with her father and mother at the time it had happened. On returning to their home a neighbor had told them everything, including the fact that Georgiana had left alone to rescue him. Edmond's friend, who himself had gotten injured by the animal's attack, had told her the beast had taken him to a nearby château.

She remembered how tense her parents had been, how tense she herself had been on hearing that. When hours later Edmond had arrived in a carriage, his body bathed in blood and unconscious and without Georgiana they had known that something was not right.

Three months had passed but no sign of her. No clue whether she was alright or not, where she was, hell, they had not even known whether she had been alive! Three long months waiting and hoping, without any result. And then suddenly one night she had returned, had returned back to her family. Christine had held her in her arms as if her little sister had been lost for a decade.

But she had been different. And with every day it had gotten worse. It had been…almost as bad as now. Almost, no, exactly as bad as during the time Cináed had nearly died. First Christine had not understood that change of countenance, that sudden change of mood. Her Georgie had never been one to brood or to stare through the air with vacant eyes.

Only later she had learned the reason behind that. Georgiana had fallen in love with a monster and suffered under that love.


	3. A Pair of Blank Eyes

A/N: Hi! Finally managed to update again. I had a disastrous Chemistry exam today, so I could not write yesterday. Sorry that the chaps are unusually short, but I promis that this will change once were deeper in the plot (at least I hope it will). Any way, enjoy and please leave a comment so that I know if you like it or not. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: A Pair of Blank Eyes<strong>

One day passed, two - nothing changed. Christine was desperate. Georgiana was not somebody to keep away from her family and friends. She had now kept to her room for three days, had not touched her food and refused to speak to anybody. This was absurd, more than absurd. Something had clearly happened and Christine wished to know.

It was early afternoon when she walked upstairs and to the guest apartment. In front of the door she hesitated. Should she do it? But then she simply shook her head and carefully opened the door.

Georgiana was lying in bed, curled up under the white and rose bed sheets. Christine spied the collar of her night gown looking outside the sheets and her hair was spread in disarray over the pillow. For a second she thought her to be asleep, but then those dark brown eyes opened and stared into nothing.

"Georgie?" For seconds Christine just stood in the door frame, but when no answer came she slowly walked to the bed and sat down on the mattress. "Georgiana, please." She pleaded silently.

She had to wait long for an answer, but felt a pang in her hart upon hearing the weak quiet voice of her sister answered her. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"What's wrong? Why are you hiding in your room?"

"I'm sorry." Her eyes were still gazing into space. Their blank expression made Christine nervous.

She caressed the soft auburn curls. "Come downstairs, join us. You never kept yourself away. The others want to see you as well."

"I'm tired."

"But you slept the whole day both yesterday and the day before. Really, what happened? Are you ill? Shall I call for a physician?" Georiana's frightened stare met her eyes and a hand wrapped itself over hers, keeping her in place. She gasped, the action had happened so sudden, so fast.

Then Georgiana's tight grip relaxed a little, but in her face Christine could see pain and horror. Slowly these expressions vanished too and her features did not further reveal her emotions. She spoke with a collected voice. "Please, I'm fine. There's no need for that. I…I'll get myself ready and join you in a minute. Just give me time to make myself presentable." Her voice sounded exited.

"Alright then. Hortense has left to pay a visit to some friends of hers, but Madame is here and she's worried for you. I'll wait for you downstairs." She stood up, not trusting the sudden change of mood, but guessed that was better than the gazing into space. She closed the door behind her and went downstairs and into the parlor. She asked Margot if there was still something left of the breakfast, some ham or maybe those delicious figs. Georgiana must be hungry, she thought. Suddenly she grew curious…and embarrassed.

She knew that Cináed, although officially dead in France, still enjoyed a certain status in England and he surely had money. She tried to imagine her sister's life in England – They were probably staying in a grand town house, with butlers and maids and three master cooks and went to balls every evening. Her sweet Georgiana was living the life of a princess and she was happy for her. But still…She was probably used to fancy food and sophisticated society by then – all things Christine could not offer in her small household. But then she laughed at her own folly. No, Georgiana would never feel above her sister. She was far too sensible and kind for that. She was her sister, her best friend after all.

She did not have to wait for long. Georgiana soon entered the parlor together with Madame Danglars, both women laughing and kissing each other on the cheeks.

"Excusez-moi Madame, but I did not feel well these past few days or I would have showed myself. My manners are really horrible." Georgiana blushed faintly.

"Nonsense! If you don't feel well it is important to rest and find your spirits. We understand your reasons for staying away and it is quite alright." Madame smiled and exchanged glances with Christine. The blonde woman was confused.

No blank expression, no weak and exhausted voice, no trembling. Instead the familiar smile grazed her lips and she looked relaxed…were it not for the dark circles under her eyes and her extremely pale countenance.

The three women sat down, ate fresh fruit and discussed everything such s Christine's pregnancy. When Georgiana had left for England it had barely been visible, but now her sister's stomach was so huge. It was now only a matter of weeks, perhaps days.

They remained there for a while until Hortense returned from her friend's place, bringing the newest rumors with her.

"Have you heard that a magician is to come to Marseille to perform at the theatre? His name is…it's…well, I forgot his name, but any way, he seems to be famous all around Europe. And Carole told me that he's known to be quite handsome and unmarried." She smirked and her eyes sparkled, but her mother soon noticed it and put an end to her fantasies.

"I don't care how handsome he might be. You will not offer yourself to a magician. Everyone knows what these people are – thieves and impostors."

"But Mama!"

"No, Hortense, I don't wish to discuss it any further."

"Ugh, what ever. Georgiana, what about you?" The girl looked at her with curious eyes. "Now that your sister is a married woman you are free to find yourself a husband too. Prey do you have anyone in mind?"

Christine expected the dark haired woman to beam, to talk about and praise Cináed. She actually expected her to tell them of her recent marriage. She did not doubt that the two of them had married as soon as they had reached English soil, perhaps even earlier. She knew how much they loved each other.

But her knowlage failed her when she saw Georgiana's reaction. The shaking in the girl's limbs returned and an unreadable emotion rushed over her face, before she suddenly began to smile. "No, there is nobody. I have not met anyone yet."

"Oh, I must introduce you to some of Michel's friends. A handsome and charming young sailor would be perfect for you."

Madame Danglars was shocked by her daughter's improper talk. "Hortense!"

Georgiana slightly bowed. She looked amused. "Thank you Hortense, but I fear I must decline. I'm not looking for a husband right now." She laughed, but it had a slightly bitter tone. As if she laughed about a joke only she understood.

And so change did eventually occur. For the next two weeks Georgiana always spent her time with her sister or with family friends, was rarely to be met alone and she laughed and smiled like she used to. She seemed happy, but her whole countenance would change as soon as Christine began to speak of Cináed. Then she would once more build up the walls around her and Christine would see the agony in her eyes, though it was subtle and well-concealed. Yes, she seemed happy, but there still was something, there had to be. Christine was absolutely certain she was merely pretending, it was not a question anymore. She knew her sister too well. In the family she had always been the first to realize if anything had been bothering her.

But asking did not help. No answer would bring her satisfaction. So she stopped asking and merely observed. She observed how Georgiana would stare into space as soon as she thought nobody was paying attention to her. Sometimes her hands would tremble so much that she would have to cross her arms behind her back so that others would not notice. The dark shadows under her eyes would not go away and her skin continued to be of a grayish white. She looked like a ghost. And she still ate tiny portions. Her arms looked so fragile and her cheek bones became more visible. The whole picture was scary.

But nonetheless she would smile and never accept that her behaviour was far from normal.


	4. Burlington House

A/N: Okay before I start: SOORRRYYYY! for letting you wait for so long. My little brother screwed up our network (I'm gonna kill him) and we had no Internet for four days! So to make it up this chap is extra long. Hope you like it and again I apologize. Please enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Burlington House<strong>

Nothing. She felt as if in a dreamlike state – in the middle of a nightmare. She still refused to believe it, but her body seemed to feel differently. Every morning when she looked into a mirror it felt like standing in front of a corpse.

She did feel like one…like a dead corpse. Her skin, white and translucent, was cold. Her hair, once beaming in its rich dark colour now hung down in limp strands, lifeless and strawy. In her dark eyes even she could see no trace of emotion. Apathetic was the first word that crossed her mind.

She knew Christine was worried. She knew her sister felt her pain. She did not want this. Christine did not deserve to feel anything but happy and carefree. _I' m fine. _So she changed things, did not keep to her chamber for the whole day, did not stare through the air with a blank expression. She joked around with Hortense and the younger girl's friends. She helped her sister prepare for the birth. She went out, to every corner of Marseille, and flirted and laughed. _I'm fine._

Unconsciously she raised her hands and wrapped them around herself. Marseille in May was hot, but still the coldness crept up her spine. The faint stinging in her abdomen grew smaller and smaller every day. Now she had to concentrate to feel it. _It has been little more than a week since. _How fast a week can pass! She let out a snort. To remember what her life had been a few months ago, what it had been a few weeks ago – it felt so strange. As if reading the pages of a fairytale.

_Flashback:_

_She had no idea where to look first – at the colourful shops, the large modern buildings, the people on the streets. She almost pressed her face against the glass of the carriage's door. Everything, she wanted to take everything in, treasure every single impression. He laughed. _

"_A little longer and your nose will be completely flattened. What a pity." _

_She did not look up. Her eyes were fixed upon the many sights outside the carriage. "Very funny, Monsieur." Silence, then a deep sight._

"_Do you like London?" His voice was tender, soft and low._

_She managed to nod. "From what I can see…It's beautiful."_

"_It's different than Marseille. After the great fire in the middle of the last century they had to build everything anew. It's a pity I can't show you the Exchange." A shadow cast through his features, but it disappeared too soon for her to be sure she had seen it. _

_He was right. The English capital seemed so strange in comparison to the French city. Although Marseille was quite big, London with its many communities topped it all. _

_The sky was dark grey and she had felt something cold on her hands and face on leaving the ship. It was icy and rain was probably not far away, but still the streets were full with people of all shapes and sizes._

"_Yes. Yes it is." Not more than a breath. But he seemed to have heard it nonetheless. She slowly turned away from the window and looked down in a pathetic attempt to hide her blush from him. She did not even know why she was blushing. Perhaps because of her excitement? She had never been to another place than the Provence in her life after all. He had seen the world._

_But then he gave her a reason to blush as he slowly raised his hand and cupped her cheek._

"_I hope you'll like the town house. We'll stay in town for three days then leave for the estate in Derbyshire." His voice was like a caress._

_She gulped. Town house? Estate? She knew that he had houses everywhere around the world, but…to experience all this was quite different. And intimidating. Once again she was reminded that he had fortune and titles and experience, she on the other hand…_

_He seemed to notice her anxiety. His thumb stroked over her cheek then the corner of her mouth. "Don't be afraid."_

As long as I am with you. _But how could she not be afraid? Starting a new life in an unknown place was certainly not the easiest thing. Her English had become quite good, almost fluent, but…it was not her native language French. And to communicate with strange people in a strange language _was _intimidating._

_The stroking on her cheek had a calming effect. "England in February is not the warmest place on earth, but you'll get used to it." She felt his sweet breath on her face. When did he come so close? Did her heart just skip a beat?_

_His voice was low, tender. "And you know…" His thumb stroked over the bottom of her lip like a butterfly's wing. Her eyes moved down to his lips, then back upwards to the sparkling mercury pools that were his eyes. His nose touched hers delicately. "I could keep you warm." She closed her eyes, felt only the delicate stroke of his lips over hers, not quite a touch. Then suddenly nothing._

_Slightly dizzy she opened her eyes. He had sat up straight on his seat, looking outside. "We're there." A frown appeared on his forehead._

_She could have screamed at that moment. Since the fight they had had the night she had left the château they had not kissed once. And that kiss did not even count…not really. They had both been frustrated and irritable then, but now…Not one kiss! And every time she remembered that one first kiss, the way his hand had buried itself in her hair, the way his body had pressed against hers, the way his tongue had teased hers…_Stop! Georgiana, shame on you! _But she longed for a second taste of this experience._

_All of a sudden the carriage came to a stop. They waited for less than a minute, then the doors opened and a fine looking servant, probably in his late forties or early fifties, helped her step outside. What she saw took her breath away. _

_The great town house, with its three stories and white façade looked like…she had thought the château to be beautiful, but this…it was the finest mansion in the street, someone had told her and now she knew that to be true. Although she could not see the other ones as the courtyard was surrounded by gardens. Were they still in the city? _

_She only realized that her jaw had dropped when Cináed standing beside her let out a chuckle and closed it with his index finger. Again she felt the heat rise into her cheeks. Could she behave more stupid? _

_When behind her the noise of wheels and hooves was heard behind her and she turned. The second carriage, the one bearing their luggage, came to a hold closely behind the first one._

_Another man dressed in dark purple attire walked up to them and bowed. He wore a powdered wig and his skin was a shade too dark for an Englishman. He looked more like the men of Southern France. And when he began to talk she knew he could not be English. But neither was his accent French. Although he seemed to be a man in his sixties, short of physic and with deep wrinkles around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, his voice was light and the melody soft._

"…_welcome back, Signore. And of course welcome to you too, Signorina." His dark eyes send her a smile before he turned his attention fully to Cináed. "We did not expect to see you here so soon. May I ask how your journey was?"_

"_Thank you Matteo, quite well. Please prepare a bath for the young lady and we wish to dine in a few hours. No hurry." Cináed's voice sounded aloof and professional. At that moment he was not the young man she loved, but the man who had the lives of who knows how many servants in his hands. _

_Matteo again bowed his head and sent orders to the pages concerning the luggage. As she slowly made her way to the entrance she saw two lines of people waiting obviously for them. The men all wore the same purple clothes as Matteo and the women's dresses were of a fair lavender. Neatly they bowed or curtseyed and a young girl with her head bent down approached them. When she stood before them she curtseyed once more, her face still hidden from her. All she saw was raven black hair._

_Cináed took Georgiana's hand in his. "I thought you might need a lady's maid." Something she could not define sparkled in his eyes. She wanted to protest at first, she was no lady after all, but then the girl raised her head. Georgiana choked, could not believe her eyes._

"_Isa…Isabeau?"_

_Isabeau's grin could not have been brighter. "Tada! Surprise."_

"_But how? How could you be here before us?" This had to be a hallucination. _

_But it was not. Isabeau linked her arm through hers and led her into the house. "That's easy – I left before you. I arrived here only yesterday. So tell me how your journey was." _

_She still could not believe this. With a shriek she wrapped her arms around her friend. Isabeau had worked as a maid in the château. They had become close friends over time and Georgiana had been sorry to leave her and Stefanie. With her mouth opened in shock she turned to look at Cináed, but he only winked at her and disappeared together with the butler in one of the side corridors. She looked at Isabeau._

_The dark haired girl only laughed again. "He asked me if I would like to accompany you to England and I said yes. _

"_And Stefanie?" The two had always been together. "Will you not miss her?" _

"_Oh, she only left to visit her family in the Bretagne then she'll come here too. Don't worry. You can't escape from us."_

_Georgiana sighted. Could it be any better? "I'm so happy you're here."_

"_Me too…Now, shall I show you around the house? Or would you like to see your suite first?"_

_Georgiana was curious about the mansion's interior, but the thought of a hot bath in her own rooms was just too tempting._

_Together they walked up the stairs to the third storey, exchanged stories and memories. The girl with the auburn hair was taken aback by the atmosphere inside the town house. Had the château been dark and heavy, the London mansion certainly was not. White marble and crème and beige fabrics sent out warmth and light. Occasionally the pale shades were interrupted by burgundy or gold. She felt as if she were in a king's palace, not a 'simple' town house. Here she would have to live during the next couple of days? She could stay here forever!_

_When they arrived at a double door she realized that she had stopped breathing. Slowly she opened the door. _

_Her first impression was that it was so much bigger than her apartment in his château. This suite was huge! The light green of the chairs had also been on her French chamber's walls. But here the ruling colours were again crème and gold. She gulped._

_Isabeau took her hand, giving her a comforting squeeze then they both entered. She had a bedroom, a parlor for private use – she squealed at the sight of the library, filled from top to bottom with volumes of all sizes and in both French and English – another parlor, much smaller than the first one, probably for occasions she wanted to be alone, and a room in which a tube filled with steaming rose-scented water stood. _

_Isabeau understood without her uttering a single word. "I'll leave you alone. If you need anything you can call me. I'll take care of your luggage." She curtseyed and simultaneously sent a wink to Georgiana's direction then the girl was left alone. _

_As her gown opened on the front she had no difficulty taking it off. The hot water burned on her skin, making her realize how sore her muscles actually were after the ride in the carriage. Happy she let out a deep sight. Exactly what she had needed._

_b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b_

_Her long curls were still damp, her cheeks rosy. After the bath she had dressed into a 'casual' gown with white and blue stripes and decorated with white lace – a gift from Cináed. While she had been in the tube it had begun to rain and she observed the heavy drops falling onto the ground in one of the Venetian windows of her parlor. Someone, probably Isabeau had lit up the fire in the chimney and warmth embraced her. Absent-minded she raised her fingers, touched the glass, following the traces the rain drops left on the window._

"_You look beautiful." It was barely more than a whisper, but the sound made her turn. Even though he was human now he still had the habit of sneaking into her chamber every time she least expected it. "Cináed!" A choke escaped her lips. He surely would cause her death one day. But when she was him, standing there at the door frame, his wet clothes clutching onto his chest and upper arms, locks of black hair falling into the white forehead, she once again forgot how to breathe._

_He did not say anything else, nor did he come closer. Silent they stood like that, neither knowing what to do or say. After what seemed like a small eternity she bent her head. _

_She heard his steps on the carpet, fast and soft at the same time. But instead of coming to her he stopped mid-track. He just stood there, five feet in front of her then he suddenly ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. "I hope everything is to your satisfaction." _

_First she was baffled by the sudden change, but then she managed to utter a "Yes, thank you." Why was her voice so high pitched? Quickly she searched for something that she could say. "I still can't believe that Isabeau is really here."_

_He gave her an almost relieved smile. "I thought you might feel more comfortable with her here. Stefanie is following in a few weeks."_

"_The house is beautiful."_

"_Yes, I bought it a few years ago in 1753 on Lord Burlington's death. That's why it's called Burlington House."_

"_And the servants have not noticed that you have not changed for more than ten years?"_

_His chuckle sent shivers down her spine. How much she loved the sound of it. "No, I spent most of the time in Italy and the business was discussed between the owners and my man. Officially it was my uncle who bought the house. It's the second time in three years I come here as the nephew. They don't see the difference."_

"_And is it not dangerous to have an elderly man as your housekeeper here? Someone who might notice the strong resemblance?" She had noticed the strange look the man had given them...almost as if he knew something._

_A shadow cast over his features, his voice got a threatening undertone that brought goose bumps on her arms. But soon it all vanished and he was looking at her with humor. "Matteo is trustworthy, almost as trustworthy as Clarice. There is no need to fear."_

"_So…he knows?"_

"_No." He slightly shook his head. "He doesn't know the details, but I've saved his life. He is indebted to me and won't cause any problems."_

_She sighted at the good news. Unconsciously her muscles had tensed up. He did not know the details. What a nice way to express it. That this young man was actually more than fifty times her age, half-demon and half-human. That he had spent the thousand years of his life as a dark creature, a werewolf, killing people in France and who knew where else. He had attacked Edmond, her brother, and Hugo, her father. Both had almost died because of him. First she had loathed him then she had loathed herself for developing compassion and finally…love for this man. _

_But now everything had changed. He was no longer the black wolf terrorizing whole countries. He was human through a potion Clarice had created to save his life. No, he was no longer the dark killer, the aloof duke, but the man she loved…and who loved her._

_She played with her fingers, unsure how to answer. She looked up when she saw his form slowly approaching her. She looked up and lost herself in his eyes. He only raised his hand, stroked a lock of her damp hair behind her ear. "Dinner is ready in one hour." Then he turned on his heels and left the room and a breathless Georgiana behind._


	5. Pearl Necklace

A/N: I really feel sorry for letting you wait so long with this story, but somehow I feel that there is not such a big interest on this. Please tell me what you think and I'll try to update more frequently, promise :). Ok, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Pearl Necklace<strong>

„Oh, look at that colour! The hyacinths are absolutely marvelous this season, don't you agree?" Hortense was dragging her to yet another stall, all the while talking about flower arrangements she wished to install in the Danglars' parlor. They had left for the market together with the maids, but while the servants had left to do business Georgiana had to stay where she was – arms linked with a babbling Hortense. _Lord in Heaven, please have mercy!_ At least she had not lost her sarcasm.

But the trip to the market had saved her from Christine's endless questions. As much as she loved her sister, she could not handle her questioning. She felt tired, exhausted and had no wish to talk about her _strange behaviour._ She also knew that Christine's worries were naturally justified and felt terrible for hurting her as well. But it had to be.

Hortense was holding a bunch of violet flowers in her hands and breathed in deeply. "I just love lavender. The fields near your family's home must be full of it now in summer. I can imagine that sitting outside and taking in the aroma must be wonderful."

"Yes, it's wonderful." She was making progress. Georgiana even managed to send her a smile. She wondered how long it would take – the feeling of emptiness and cold that seemed to grow with the second. How long until it would go away?

The blonde did not pay further attention to her and so Georgiana managed to carefully pull her arm out of the girl's grip and walked a little on her own, her eyes flying over the many flowers and herbs on display. Marguerites, tulips, violets…In the centre of a bunch of white marguerites a single pink rose stretched its petals towards the sun. The blossom was almost white, so light was its shade, and glistened like pearls

"_I'd like you to have it." A flower garden. The sun hidden behind grey clouds. A smile, a laugh. _

"_I'd like you to have it." Rain on her skin. His hands on her nape._

"_Georgiana." Hot breath grazing her throat. Mercury eyes. _

"_I love you."_

"Oh, I must have put it into the wrong bucket. How stupid of me!" The flower vendor shook her head and took the rose outside. With her hands she stroked the light petals before placing it to the other roses.

Georgiana needed a moment to adjust. On looking around she was still on the market. In Marseille. Something in her abdomen hurt and her breathing came fast. With her hand she stroked over her forehead, closed her eyes.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" The sales lady eyed her skeptically. "You seem quite pale."

"No, no, I'm fine. Merci." What, was she now beginning to hallucinate? On turning she saw Hortense meeting her eyes with a worried look. Oh no, please not that as well! She just wanted to run away, but that would have caused other problems and she was not sure if her legs would have carried her far enough.

The fair girl walked up to her and took her carefully by the elbow as if she were a sick person. She was not sick, alright? With tender force she pulled her arm away.

"Come, we shall return home." Together they walked up the street, not exchanging one word. Had Hortense seen her reaction to the flower? Thinking of it, she felt stupid and weak. That a simple flower could put her so much out of countenance! No one reacted that way on seeing a flower. But the colour had been the same, she was sure.

Unconsciously her hand rose, touching the skin under her throat. Nothing. She knew something was missing. She knew what was missing. And she knew where it was – in a tiny jewelry box hidden under a pile of shawls inside the commode in her room.

He had given it to her a few days after they had arrived at the estate. It had felt like a promise back then. So beautiful, so pure.

_Flashback:_

"_This is amazing!" Her voice was no louder than a whisper. She had only gone out for a walk, wishing to enjoy the exceptionally warm day. He had been right, February was not a nice month in England, especially in the northern parts of the country, but although the sun was invisible behind clouds it was warm enough to go outside._

_It was a mere coincidence that she had found the rose garden. _

_Her feet moved on their own, carrying her deeper into the garden. Hundreds, thousands of roses of all shapes and sizes. The colours so vibrant against the back round of the colourless sky. With her hand she reached out and picked a tiny blossom, petals shining in a light pink. _

_She did not hear him coming, did not notice the light noise of the steps behind her, but when she turned he stood there, his eyes fixed on her form. She gasped at the intensity of his stare and warm shivers ran down her spine. She attempted to approach him and took a step, but he only raised his hand._

"_Don't move." He whispered. "Don't move." His eyes did not leave hers while slowly taking one step, then two, then three towards her. She was fixed on the spot._

_How beautiful he was! Like the marble statues of ancient gods that he collected, like the portraits of princes and heroes she had seen inside the secret rooms of the château. She could not believe that such a divine creature should truly be hers._

_An unreadable expression rushed through his eyes and a faint smile laid itself upon his lips. "I have something for you."_

_She met his smile with a beaming one. "What?"_

_His hand pulled something out from his coat's chest pocket. First she thought it was a flower, but then he held the stunning necklace with both hands up. Tiny little pearls, all in the exact same colour as the rose she had held only moments ago in her own hands. It was so simple and delicate so beautiful in its simplicity. He knew her preferences so well. She had not known that pearls in that light shade of pink even existed. _

_She gasped. "Cinàed, please." She did not dare think of the collier's price. She did not come from a circle where receiving a pearl necklace was normal. She felt uncomfortable at the thought of him spending his money on buying her gifts._

"_Shhh, if you don't like it I can give a different one." She could have slapped herself on seeing a trace of disappointment in his eyes._

"_No! No, I love it! But…I cannot. I'm only a peasant's daughter. I don't deserve such a present."_

"_Well, if it's only that." The smile returned on his features, almost expanding into a grin. But then al of a sudden humor left and he looked serious. He walked behind her and his fingers rose, placing the delicate piece of jewellery under her throat. She heard the click of the clasp and did not dare breathe. When she suddenly felt something hot – his lips? – touching the curve of her nape she shuddered._

"_You do deserve it." His voice a whisper, soft. "You deserve even more. You are worth the world."_

_She turned, feeling the need of seeing his eyes. Dark pools of mercury, with silver rivers running through the iris. _

_She had almost lost him. It had been so close. The pictures of his lifeless body, the sound of his screams – they still hunted her night and day. _But he is here. He is here, in front of me. He is well.

_His cheek twitched and he cupped her cheek with his right hand. With expectation she closed her eyes, felt the familiar tingle inside her stomach. _Please, oh please!

_The hand on her cheek vanished and disappointed and slightly dizzy she opened her eyes again. She was alone._

_End of flashback _

"Are you really alright?" Hortense's voice woke her from her memory and reality crushed over her head like stone.

"Eh?" She shook her head absentmindedly, fighting against the pictures. Hortense only eyed her and after recieving no actual answer she abandoned her questioning and they both walked in silence.

They reached home and while feeling Hortense's stare on her back Georgiana walked up the staircase, careful to not appear agitated. Or at least she hoped she did not appear agitated. Only after closing the door behind her she rushed to the commode and pulled the third drawer open, with both hands pulling out the scarves. Then she found it in the dark corner of the drawer.

She was still scared to touch it at times, it looked so fragile. But her fear did not prevent her from grasping and holding it inside her fist this time. It was the only thing he had given her that she had taken with her.

The tear that fell down her cheek seemed to mock her, laugh at her. She was so weak. Even with miles between them he still had power over her, though she could not blame him. He would not want this too.

A sharp pain suddenly rushed through her veins, the centre inside her abdomen. One hand holding the necklace, the other clutching her dress over her stomach she fought against the scream that built up inside her throat.

It was so unfair! So unfair!


	6. Sweet Little Angel

A/N: Hey everyone! I know that this one is a bit short but it's important nonetheless. Please leave a review or otherwise I don't know if you like what I write or not. Thanks to the two who left a comment on the last one :). Ok, that said (sry, just a little desperate at the moment) Have a nice day and please enjoy!

And sorry to MissJemima. (oops) I wrote Edmond instead of Michel. Hope I've corrected all the points :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Sweet Little Angel<strong>

The weeks passed and soon the day arrived on which sweet little Anne came into the world. With her clear blue eyes, tiny nose and rosebud mouth she resembled Christine so much that it was almost frightening, but her hair was clearly a shade too dark, not glistening in a golden blonde, but in light brown - the exact same colour of her father's curls.

Michel had arrived two days prior to the birth and still, two weeks afterwards Georgiana could not say who was more excited – Christine or Michel? Anne was a sweet babe and quiet. She was an angel.

Madame Danglars was content as well and seemed to finally fully accept Christine into the family. Michel would not have to leave for the next two weeks, which made both his wife and his mother happy. The whole family was complete…or almost complete.

Georgiana knew that her sister longed to see their father and mother, but she had made her promise to not tell them of Georgiana's return. Christine was more than astonished about that, Georgiana loved them as much as she did. That she of all people should not want to see them was more than just surprising.

And so it was agreed that Christine would visit her family together with Anne instead. Georgiana would remain in Marseille, though her fair sister could not understand it at all.

Michel had been against the idea. Madame Danglars and Georgiana as well, but Christine managed to convince them of her being fit enough for the journey, a month after the birth. It would be hard for both mother and child, but when Madame Danglars and Hortense offered to accompany them together with two male servants nothing was left to complain about. They could do that, Christine was strong and Anne healthy.

But until the date came they all lived together in the Danglars' home. Hortense soon proved to be more or less useless when it came to care for a child, something her mother saw as a failure and as a obstacle in finding a husband. "If you can't care for your niece then how shall you be able to care for your own children? What husband could want such a woman?" She would say with a serious look every time Hortense entered the room.

So instead Madame taught Georgiana how to hold, bathe and swaddle a babe. And Georgiana realized how much she liked it. She enjoyed the feeling of this fragile warm little body in her arms. When she cradled little Anne on the stomach the girl would gurgle and squeal with excitement.

She spent every free minute with the child. First Christine had been grateful for the help, she had hoped that Georgiana would find her spirits again and be happy once more. And at the beginning it had been so.

But after a while things went back to normal, sometimes she even felt they had worsened. Every time Christine caught a glimpse of her sister the younger woman was either cradling of singing to Anne, the lyrics in a language she could not understand. Had she not told her that Cináed originally came from somewhere else?

One time she was horrified at the sight of a pale Georgiana cowering and writhing on the floor. Her eyes had been closed tightly and no sound had escaped her lips. What had happened?

Christine had rushed to her sister, had helped her stand up, but Georgiana would not admit that she was not well. Why did she have to do this?

"You don't have to be a heroine! If you have a problem, if something is bothering you then come to me! You always came to me." Christine's voice had been audible through the whole house on that day. In the back round they both had heard Anne scream and both had wished to comfort the little one, but Christine would not have let Georgiana escape like that. After a second or two the screams had ended, obviously one of the maids had taken charge of it. Thank God! "Please, this isn't you!"

"I'm fine. I don't know what your problem is, really." said the soon-to-be corpse in front of her.

"No, you're not fine. You're sick and in pain and you won't tell me the reason. Did something happen in England or on the journey back? Talk to me!" She could have screamed that moment. How could somebody be so stubborn? "And where is Cinàed?"

Georgiana had sent her a faint smile, lips pressed into a fine line. "He stayed back. Business."

"But he's your husband. Should he not take care after you? Tell me, did something happen?"

"Really, Christine…"

"No, not _really, Christine_! I'm tired of that _really, Christine_! Did he hurt you?"

Georgiana had rushed forth and taken her sister's hands in her own. "No, no he did not hurt me."

"Then what is it?" Christine had pulled away one hand and cupped Georgiana's cheek.

"I…I cannot tell you." And she had left with no further explanation the room.

Whatever in the whole world could be so horrible that Georgiana could not tell her about? She had thought that after she had learned the basic story of Cináed's identity Georgiana would trust her more. But the opposite seemed to be the case.

She continued to watch Georgiana over the next couple of days, the questions still rushing through her mind.

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A piercing ache inside her stomach caused Georgiana to sit up straight in her bed. Cold sweet lingered on her forehead and her breathing came quickly and hard, she was almost gasping.

She wrapped her arms around her body and waited for the attack to end. Since two weeks it had gotten worse than before. It had started with a light nausea and now she felt as if somebody pushed a knife through her abdomen. And the best thing was that she had absolutely no idea what was wrong with her. None what so ever! Of course she had a hypothesis, a very logical one, but with those strange symptoms she was not sure at all. What was going on inside of her?

When her heart beat had calmed down she carefully lay down on her mattress, eyes still closed. Her body was shaking. She hated it when it woke her up from a deep sleep. Now she would have difficulties falling back asleep. Great, absolutely great!

_It's my fault, actually. Had I never thought that something as impossible as this could be possible...Stupid Georgiana! You managed to ruin everything. How am I supposed to ever meet Maman and Papa again? To stand before them as of nothing had happened? The shame is too big._

Christine had called him _her husband_. The words had stung, like neddles piercing her heart.

It was ironic, really, that after all that had happened the last months, all they had gone through, that that should have been for nothing. All in vain!

But, oh God, she missed him. Too much. And she hated herself for that. One would expect that after the direction things had taken she would curse him to hell. But she could not do it...because it was not his fault. And now she was beeing punished for her mistakes.

_Mistakes_. The word sounded so wrong, but was there another way you could express it?

For him it was a part of who he was, a part of his past and she should have known better. Yet she had acted like a lunetic, desperate in her loneliness.

Only a single tear left the corner of her eye. There were no more left inside of her, she had simply cried too much recently.


	7. The Truth

A/N: Hi, yeah it's me again . Sorry that it once more took so long.

Explanation: I used Georgiana Spencer, Duchess of Devonshire here, though the story takes place in 1773 and Georgiana S. became the duchess after her marriage in 1774. We'll just pretend she became the duke's wife two years earlier, ok? Thanx.

So please enjoy the new chap.

Oh and: Some of the coming chapters will be only flashbacks so I'll write them in _Italic_.

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: The Truth?<strong>

_She found him in his study, one hand holding a glass filled with liquid gold in his tight grip, the other one rubbing the side of his ribs. His eyes were closed as he stood beside the fireplace. _

_She slowly walked up to him, carefully not to make any noise as her feet touched the carpet underneath. "Does it still hurt?" The question was rhetorical. Of course it still hurt. He had had a bullet inside his chest less than a month ago. She would always curse Monsieur Antoine for what he had done to Cináed._

_He opened his eyes, but did not look at her. His hand raised the glass to his lips and he emptied it in one gulp. On a table near the chimney she saw a carafe filled with the same liquid. _

_They had run out of Clarice's special painkillers about a week ago and after vehement protests on his side he had started to use brandy as a temporarily solution. Even though he trivialized his condition she knew that the pain in his chest was far from being trivial. She hated that she could not give him some sort of relief._

_He put the empty glass down on the coffee table and then turned towards her. She quickly reached out with her hand and stroked over his cheek. He once more closed his eyes and inhaled her scent deeply. It was as if the time stood still for a moment. _

_They had not been alone for the last few days, always surrounded by people. He had wished to present her to London society or better – present the ton to her. She knew that he felt guilty for taking her away from her family and friends – it had been her own decision by the way, something he tented to overlook at times – and wanted her to find new connections in her English home._

_So they had attended dinner parties and balls every single evening. That is where she discovered his talent for dancing. But of course, such a gifted musician could only be a devil on the parquet. And like a devil he was, the incarnation of the snake with the apple that tempted Eva and Adam to do the forbidden himself. Every time he led her to the dance floor, every time his eyes captivated hers, every time the corners of his lips would twitch oh so slightly upwards…she blushed at the memories. It had been as though she were the only person in the room, the only one he would ever look at or dance with. _

_But they had never been actually alone. This was the first time since days. _

_She memorized the feel of his skin beneath her hand, the soft and yet angular curves of his features, his long black lashes, the black eyebrows partly hidden behind curls of ebony black hair, the inviting full lips. In the dim light his skin had the colour of gold or amber, not its usual pearl white shine. He looked like a statue…and this statue belonged to her and no one else._

_His head turned slightly and he kissed her hand's palm then the most mesmerizing of his features became visible – when he opened his mercury and silver grey eyes. She had trouble not to sigh._

_For moments they just looked into each other's eyes then his soft voice broke the silence. "We should leave now or we'll be late."_

_After that she did let out a sigh, careful not to show her disappointment. They had been invited into the duke of Devonshire's house for dinner together with a small party of England's elite. She only knew that Cináed possessed the title _Duke of Milan_, but she was ignorant_ _about the others and he must own at least an earldom to be accepted into the Duke's circle. _

_She had been shocked to learn that he owned estates and titles all over Europe and the Middle East. But then on further thinking it was only logical. He was rich and older than most of the peerages that later had come to his possession. Why not buy himself some land and a title of nobility?_

_Her hand placed in his they both made their way down the staircase and minutes later they were inside the carriage that would bring them to Chatsworth house – the seat of the dukes of Derbyshire._

_It was almost dark when she looked outside the vehicle's window and saw the estate's elegant façade bedded in a valley with trees and a small river. The sight was beautiful – the descending sun's light reflected by the stream and the building glistening in a light gold._

_On the entrance they were greeted by the duchess herself. "Welcome!"_

_Georgiana had met her on two occasions before, but the young woman's beauty stroked her again as if this were the first time. Both had been greatly surprised to find that they shared their name and it had been the subject of a lot of jokes._

_The duchess was about the same age as Georgie. With a warm smile grazing her fine features the lady came to greet her guests, placing a light kiss on Georgie's cheek and curtseying before Cináed. "Come inside! Lady Eleanor and Lord Henry are already there. I can't wait for you to meet them." And she took Georgie's hand in hers and led her inside the grand house._

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_After dinner the women left the men to themselves and went to an opulently decorated parlor. Georgie admired the estate's grandeur, but she clearly preferred the light and subtle interior of Cináed's houses._

_Her Grace, Lady Eleanor, and the Ladies Margret and Elizabeth, who had arrived with their husbands moments after Georgiana and Cináed engaged her in a conversation about the newest fashion (for she as a Frenchwoman should obviously know the latest styles) and novels._

"_Oh, I love novels. They are always so scandalous and romantic!" Lady Margret said with dreamy eyes. "I wish my life could be as exiting!"_

"_Ha, keep on dreaming!" Lady Elizabeth pulled her friend down to the seat next to her. "And anyway, you are married with the most exiting man of all of us."_

"_Oh, but this has changed since our new friend caught His Grace, the mysterious and amazingly handsome Duke of Bedford." She gave Georgie a knowing smile. "Tell us, how came Lord William to choose matrimony? We thought it first to be impossible, but after Her Grace told us we simply had to meet the young woman who achieved this incredible task."_

Lord William? Duke of Bedford? Matrimony? _Georgie had to breathe in a few times. On their way to Chatsworth Cináed had explained to her the main title and name he was known under in England, but she still needed a second to adjust to it. But what actually made her speechless was the fact that these women thought her to be his wife…and she was hit by the realization that she was not. They were not married and he had yet to ask._

_What should she do? Tell them the truth? They would think her his mistress. Lie? Sooner or later society would find out. They would know that she was not more than a peasant's daughter, a nobody in their circles._

_The ladies luckily took her silence as shyness. _

"_Oh, we understand, don't we? After all he does have a certain reputation." Lady Margret laughed and the others exchanged knowing grins. Only Georgie knew not what to say._

"_Oh, do you remember when he was found in the garden behind the bushes together with the Lady Mary? At the Churchill's spring ball two years ago? What a joke that was!"_

"_But it was never proven that it was actually him. The gentleman disappeared before someone reached disheveled Mary. Poor little thing." Lady Elizabeth's voice did not sound pitying at all._

_Lady Margret protested. "Yes, but I can imagine it was him. It certainly would match his character. How about dear Jane, and Isabelle, or Lady Henrietta? And the countless mistresses? This man has more children than the king and the prince together!" _

_Only when Lady Georgiana politely cleared her throat did the woman realize her faux-pas. "Oh, excuse me, dear friend. I did not mean to offend you, but I really believe that you should know the truth." She gave Georgie a nod and an apologetic smile._

The truth? _Georgiana thought with a snort. But the lady's words left a strange feeling inside of her. And this feeling did not decrease by the time the men joined them and she saw the looks with witch she and Cináed were eyed. No, it increased and formed a hole in her body._

Don't believe what they say, Georgiana! Don't believe what you've heard! _The voice inside her head screamed and shouted. She would have to talk to him._


	8. First Fire, Then Ice

A/N: Hi! Well this serves somehow the purpose of a gap filling chap, but it also contains some new info. Hope you all like it. Have a nice day and please enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: First Fire, Then Ice<strong>

_The ride back home was accompanied by silence. Neither he nor she said a word inside the dark carriage. All the time she tried to think of something to say, of some way to open the discussion, but her mind would not concentrate, her lips not open._

_He was sitting opposite to her, staring outside the window into the grey and blue landscape, his chin leaning against his hand._

_After a while she could no longer bare it. "So, you are the duke of Bedford?" No answer, only a nod. She tried it again. "Does that mean you have an estate in Bedfordshire?"_

"_Yes. Woburn Abbey." He still refused to look at her and she was not sure why._

_She nodded, more to herself than to him. It was strange that she all of a sudden felt so shy around him. "And may I…may I ask how you come to own an estate normally owned by heirs of the duchy?"_

"_Easily. I brought the actual duke in 1495 to sign his belongings to me, including his titles. John Tudor died that year and as there wasn't a legitimate heir left behind I remained number one in his will." His voice sounded strangely absent. As if he were not sitting in front of her, but miles away._

_Her eyes widened. "You became his heir? But how? Did you just go to him and asked for the peerage?"_

_His soft chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "No. But as his physician I had access to him all of the time. It's amusingly easy to persuade a man who is in delirium."_

"_His physician?"_

_Finally he turned his head towards her. "It was the time after my second voyage to the Middle East. I had to spend the years doing something, so why not study medicine?"_

_A smile appeared on her lips as pictures of him healing the ailments of people rushed through her mind. This did not go unnoticed and to her relief he returned the smile. "What's so funny?" His voice was light again and, though barely more than a whisper, she could hear the humor in it._

_Georgiana shook her head. "Nothing, it's just…Why would you need to study medicine with Clarice at your side?" She thought about the short elderly woman with her hundreds of different potions and medicines. _

_Clarice had been the housekeeper of Cináed's château in the Provence and, as she later had learned, also his confident. She knew every thing about him, from the part of his being half demon to the curse that had bound him to a life as a predator. The witch had been there from the start…well at least Georgiana called her a witch, as she had never asked the old lady about her own story. _

_It had been Clarice who had saved him with her talents after Antoine had nearly killed him. It was her who had done the impossible, but under one condition…Cináed was no werewolf anymore. Nor did the demonic part inside of him exist any longer. He was human. Fully human. Something he had never been before._

_He seemed to think about his response. "Well, I guess you could've called me bored, but the fact is that Clarice was not always there. She too had duties of her own and they did not involve me. And anyway" His eyes sparkled in the darkness with happy memories. "The Arabs had and still have a far superior knowledge of science. While Europe forgot all the progress it had made during the antiquity the Middle East and parts of Asia worked with it and brought it to perfection."_

_His voice was so full with experience, so soft with respect. Once more she was reminded of his true age. While she only read about these far away places he had actually seen them. He had been there, spoke a dozen languages._

"_Are you sad that you will no longer have the opportunity to do such things?"_

_She really should not have asked that. All of a sudden a shadow pulled itself over his features, the smile vanished. But as soon as the shadow had appeared it disappeared again. He leaned forth and took both her hands into his left one. "Not as long as I have you."_

_Luckily it was dark or she would have felt even more embarrassed, for she was sure her face was beaming red. She bit down on her lip, but it did not help prevent the wide smile from placing itself upon her lips. Her hand in his she placed a kiss upon his knuckles. Only when she looked up into his eyes the smile disappeared. _

_Silent his eyes bore into her soul, into her very core. Like two gigantic waves they glistened in the silver moonlight. She could see into them, could see hat every one of his words had been spoken in earnest. And she felt a trembling in her muscles that had nothing to do with the crisp night air. _

_She did not realize that his face came closer and closer, too occupied was she by the brilliance of his mercury eyes._

_His nose brushed delicately against hers, his hand laid itself over the curve of her nape. His other hand did not let go of both of her hands and her eyes closed on their own command. She had no control over her body. _

_When his lips pressed themselves against hers it felt as if she were in a pit of fire. Her whole body burned and from her throat a deep and satisfied sigh escaped. The hand on her nape rose, buried itself in her curls, while his tongue traced her lower lip. _

_Finally! Her breath quickened, and she could sense his chest rise and fall in a equally rushed manner, as he pressed his body against hers._

_It was as if a bucket full with ice water fell over her head. In less than a second he was on far corner of the carriage, his breath coming jerky. Moments later the carriage door was opened and he rushed, almost ran outside, leaving Georgiana baffled and gasping for air._

_It took her a moment to adjust and her hand rose up to her head. Thank God she had not asked Isabeau for a more complex coiffure that afternoon. Her hair was a little disheveled, but no one would notice. Or at least she hoped so._

_But what had that just been? Why had he practically raced out of the vehicle without a word of explanation? Her breathing was still coming out hard and her knees felt a bit weak on climbing out of the carriage and up the entrance stairs._

_He had finally kissed her. Really kissed her, the way couples should kiss. But then why did he look as if he wanted to run from her?_

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_The next morning she could not find him. No trace of him in neither his study, nor the library or the garden. He did not join her for lunch and dinner as well was spent alone. The servants did not know more than her and she grew worried._

_Had she done something wrong? But he had been the one kissing her, not the other way around. It had been on his initiative._

_A little voice sneaked into her head. Evil and lying. "_He surely has never run away from the others."

_She heard Lady Margret whisper into her ear. "_This man has more children than the king and the prince together_." No, lies!_

_And she fought against the voice, cursed it. How could she think that? Cináed loved her! Yes, she may be not his first, but she was certainly more important to him than all the rest…right?_


	9. Irish Fiddle

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the delay, but I had so much to do this week that I had no time to write. And that will probably remain so until the end of December (in Switzerland Christmas break begins on the 24th December and lasts until the 1st of January). I hope I will have some time then. Yeah, so I hope you like the new chapter.

Oh, and I use some Irish words here. I'm not Irish nor do I speak the language and if there's a mistake then I'm really sorry. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Irish Fiddle<strong>

_Georgiana had great difficulty not to show the disappointment she felt on entering the empty dining room the next morning. With one glance around the room she knew he was neither there, nor would he come as the morning would progress._

_She tried to ignore some of the pitiful looks two servants sent her. _

_Where was he? Should she be worried? Her eggs and cold ham did not taste as good as they normally did. _

"_Good morning, Signorina." Matteo entered the room, his tall figure clothed in the servant's deep purple attire. He gave her a friendly smile and bowed his head, but the smile vanished the moment she asked him of his master's whereabouts. During the last weeks she had gotten to know the good-humored butler better and admired not only his light wit – a property owned by a lot Italians, he had told her once with a wink – but also his loyalty towards Cináed. He would not lie to her about him, she knew that. "I am sorry, but I have not seen him since yesterday."_

_She kept the growl inside her throat. Fine, if he wished to play the stubborn child he may do that. She would enjoy her day, with or without him. "Could you tell me where I can find the library then?"_

_Less than ten minutes later she was standing in front of the library, her eyes first wandering around in search of him. As she could not spot him she entered and walked towards the ceiling-high book shelves. Until now she rarely had had any chance to read at all, always being occupied by parties and events, and even on the few occasions she had kept to her own apartment, the small yet exquisite selection of novels and poems inside her private parlor keeping her company._

_She looked around, admired the lavishly ornamented backs of volumes in Italian, English, French and many, many more languages until her eyes rested upon a tiny red book, barely bigger than her palm. With careful hands she took it out of its place as it looked so old._

_On opening it she was met by a to her unknown script. Strange signs decorated the pages and she could not tell what language this was._

_Pictures of landscapes, of wide fields and smooth hills, pictures of people clothed in a strange fashion, clothes in shining amber or sparkling emerald or cornflower blue._

_With the book in her hand she walked up to the sitting corner and made herself comfortable on the long settee. _

_The images were compelling, telling her stories and fairytales. A faint smirk placed itself upon her lips at that thought, but it was true – she could not read this text, but she could understand the pictures. _

_What surprised her was the fact that some of the persons in the images had fire red hair. She had never seen this colour on a real person. It was a lighter shade than her own auburn curls. _

_Suddenly a hand laid itself over her shoulder and she twitched in surprise. "What…?"_

_Cináed' s eyes did not meet hers, but the smile on his lips was good-humored. "What are you reading?" He kneeled before her on the ground._

_When had he returned? Where had he been? She shook her head, trying to give him an answer despite her surprise. "Ehm…I don't know. I can't read the title. Where have you been?"_

_Not paying attention to her question he took the small book out of her hands. After a second he raised an eyebrow and his eyes looked at her questioning. "Where did you find this?" _

_She tried to estimate his mood, but he did not seem tense to her. Actually her beloved grin appeared on his lips. "Over there, by the English work, but I can't understand what is written inside of it. What language is this?"_

"_It's __Goídelc__." He turned the book's cover and the title's golden letters became visible. "Scéalta agus amhráin na hÉireann. It means _Irish tales and songs. _No wonder you could not understand it." His eyes were fixed on the small book. Rarely had she heard him speak in his mother tongue, though he used it every time when he said things inappropriate for a young woman's ears. His tongue flew so easily over the, to her unfamiliar words._

_Happy on seeing him in front of her and unwilling to let him go any time soon she had an idea. "You say there are songs in it. Songs you can play?"_

"_Not on the piano."_

"_On the violin?"_

_With a nod he took her hand in his and led her out of the library and into the music salon right next to it. It was much smaller than the book room, though still big enough to carry a piano forte, various fiddles and ceiling high bookshelves filled with sheet music from all around the world._

_She sat down on a chair near the French windows leading to the balcony, while he walked towards an old looking trunk. With the violin and its bow in hands he came back to her and started tuning it._

_She had learned that he played more instruments than just the piano on one of their tours around London's parks three weeks prior. _"_When did you learn how to play the violin?" She asked him while observing his quick and experienced fingers work on the shining wooden instrument. _

"_Only a few years ago."_

"_How do you define _a few years_?" _

_A light chuckle escaped his lips. "In 1623…or 1628. I can't remember. But it has changed a little since then." The chuckle was replaced by a frown and he was silent again. As a human his memory was not as flawless as it had been before. She knew how he hated that aspect of his new life._

_After a few more seconds he seemed to be satisfied with the tones and he began to play._

_First he began low, almost not audible. The music rose, but still remained serene, reminding her of the dark ocean before Marseille. Then the character of the tones changed, became somewhat tense and at the same time longing. His eyes had fixed hers all the time through, but at that moment they seemed to talk to her together with the violin. He did not need sheet music for that. The book was clasped between her hands. _

_The notes ran through her body and down her spine into every part of her. He was begging her, but she knew not for what. He closed his eyes for a moment, when the song reached its final bars. But then instead of finishing as she had expected, the music raised once more, building up and gaining intensity until she could feel a tingle in her fingers. The sad look vanished from his expression and in its place a mischievous grin appeared upon his lips. _

_The music exploded into a lively jig and the smirk on his face brought an equally bright smile to hers. She began to clap to his music and after a while she did not bear to stay on her chair and began to dance around him. Their eyes rarely left each other and it was as if only they existed in the world. Her laughter was light, as were her steps. Her hands were still clapping and her skirts flowing around her legs._

_But the magic ended and on the last tunes she stopped her dancing and they both stood before each other. Both were breathing hard, the violin still clasped in his hand. Silence laid itself over the room._

_She caught her breath. "Where have you been?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard her nonetheless._

_She could see the struggle in his eyes. He would not tell her the truth and the fact hurt. Did he not trust her?_

"_Nowhere." His eyes left hers and he turned to place the instrument into the trunk._

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><p><em>Translation Irish-English:<em>

__Goídelc_: _Irish (Note: this term was used between the 6th and 10th centuries and it's the term Cináed grew up with. Afterwards it became Gaeilge.)

_Scéalta agus amhráin na hÉireann: _Irish tales and songs


	10. Pain

A/N: Yay! No long waiting for the new chap this time. I really tried to update sooner. Hope you like it. And yeah, obviously this one is not a flashback. They have not finished though. There are still more to come. So please enjoy and tell me what you think. And yeah, I mean criticism as well ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: Pain<strong>

The moment she opened her eyes she felt the nausea climb up her throat and she pulled the covers away. She reached the night pot just in time. Her whole body was covered in cold sweat and her legs trembled. With her hands she tried to stabilize herself, but it worked only for a moment and she fell back onto the bed.

Then the pain came, sharper than ever, and she wrapped both arms around her body. Georgiana took deep breaths, but the pain would not leave her. On the contrary, it concentrated itself inside her abdomen.

But after a few minutes it disappeared, just as sudden as it had come. Her breath came hard and she stroked with her hand over her forehead. Then she carefully began to walk towards the water basin. The cool water felt so good on her skin.

She began to dress herself and moments later she was on the steps. Thankfully it was early and Christine was not yet awake. The servants on the other hand were, and When Marguerite offered to make her some tea she could not refuse the offer. A tea was exactly what she needed now.

She sat down on one of the chairs in the small parlor, a hand laid over her stomach. What was wrong with her? Well that was more a rhetoric question than anything else. There was no doubt what was going on.

Two months had passed since she had arrived in Marseille and rung at Christine's door. Two months during witch her constitution had changed for the worse. In those two months the pains had grown sharper, while her limbs seemed to become weaker. Her skin continued to be pale as snow, only that now it had a slightly grayish shade. Her appetite had left her and so had her monthly indisposition.

A few moths ago her life had been so different, so happy. How could all of this happen? She gasped as all of a sudden a new wave of pain rushed through her body. Georgiana clinched her teeth, fighting against the moan in her throat. Luckily there was no nausea this time. She would not know what to do then.

Soon the remaining members of the family came down and joined her in a light conversation before breakfast. That is they led a discussion while she either gave monosyllabic answers or did not talk at all. This behaviour was now nothing to dwell upon and nobody was surprised or offended by it. The only person who did not talk to her was Christine.

Both sisters had not exchanged a word with each other since their fight before Christine had left with the baby to see the family. But although words were not spoken between those two, glances kept being shared from time to time. Christine's eyes would always be filled with concern and disappointment at her sister's obvious lack of trust, while Georgiana's would carry hidden secrets. Secrets no one could read or understand.

It pained the auburn haired girl to see her sister being tormented by her silence. There had been a time when she could confide in the fair sister, but…it was not that she could not trust Christine. By all means, no, Christine was the best sister in the world and could keep a secret like nobody else.

No, but she could not talk to Christine that time. It was exactly like all those months ago, back at their childhood home, when Georgiana had returned from the château in a hurry. Their father, their dear Papa had been greatly injured…by no other than Cinàed himself. She had come back, had kept silent about her time at the castle. She had felt so ashamed of herself. Despite knowing better, she had fallen in love with the man who had not only taken the lives of dozens of innocent people in the area, but also nearly killed her brother and father.

She had fallen in love with a monster and Edmond had known it. Christine had only sensed that something had been wrong, but she had been oblivious to the real circumstances. Georgiana had not wanted to tell her, too great had been her shame at first.

But when Christine had learned the truth she had not left her in her misery. No, on the contrary, while she had feared for Cinàed's life Christine had been the one bringing a tray with food to her, she had been the one holding her hand when Cinàed had started screaming in agony, she had been the one reminding her sister to wash and dress and sleep.

Christine had been loyal, but Georgiana still could not tell her this time. Because this was not about falling in love.

How often they had heard of impoverished families in Marseille whose daughters and wives had to sell their own bodies, just to gain some money for bread. How often they had heard of young girls who had allowed their folly to guide them into the arms of a man. That man would not be their husband, no vows would be exchanged, but still these young women would give away their maidenhood, their most sacred property for nothing. For a life in shame.

They had felt little pity on hearing about these girls. After all they had known what they had been doing, right? But how would Christine react on hearing…on hearing that her own sister had become one of them.

Oh, how she wished she could tell somebody. At times she felt so alone, so…why had he done this to her? What had she done to him? What had she done to deserve this? And from him of all people?

His face was still on her mind, every single minute of a day. Saving promises, sacred to her like prayers. The curve of his neck, the black curls falling into his forehead. The shape of his nose, his lips, his skin, so soft and warm under her touch. His mercury eyes, piercing her soul with every glance, speaking to her without words. The way he ran his hand through his hair every time he was nervous, The way the corners of his mouth would turn slightly upwards and into a mischievous smirk. His voice, like black velvet, soft and comforting. His warm scent.

Yes, she missed him. She longed for him, she wanted him at her side, to take her into his strong embrace every time the pain would come, every time the nausea and the trembling would make it almost impossible for her to stand on her feet.

But how wrong it was of her to wish that, how stupid and weak. How could she wish that after everything that had happened? Perhaps she was not half as strong as she had hoped to be.

That was one reason she could not tell Christine. The other of course being the fact that she hated the idea of bringing shame upon her family.

What they would think of her. Maybe they would ask her to leave. To go into one of those orphanages or perhaps into a monastery. She dreaded the idea to be sent away.

She was so tired of it all. No matter what had happened, no matter where she was, the mere memory of him would not leave her alone, haunting her in her dreams and during the day. She wished it would go away, leave her alone. He still had hold of her.

She wondered how her life had been, had she never come to the château. She probably would have never met him, still be with her family and friends, leading a normal life like every other girl in the world. And she would probably have married someone from the area, but…that too was a good point. Before she had met him Edmond had been the man she had thought to be in love with. They had planned to marry and build up a life together. But if she had not gone to rescue him he would have died that night. Cinàed would have killed him had she not prevented him from doing so.

So basically it was one life for another. Edmond was alive and strong and hopefully happy, while she seemed to die away with every day that passed. She knew the expression might be a little rough, but really, there was no other way to explain it as well as that.


	11. Masquerade

A/N: (bending her head in shame) I'm sorry for the delay again. It's just that I have so many things to do for school that I barely managed to get some sleep this week. Sorry and to make it up to you the new chapter is again a little longer. Please enjoy and if you have some spare time: please leave a review and tell me what you think.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Masquerade<strong>

This was ridiculous! No, she would not take that anymore! How could Georgiana even think she would just stand there while her sister was suffering? Talking did not work. But what could she do?

Georgiana was growing weaker and weaker every day and Christine was near hysterics. They had had a few smaller fights since the big one, but nothing had changed – only that Georgiana had resumed her silent distance from everyone else.

Thank God Anne did not cause any difficulties. She was such an easy child, always eating or sleeping…like now. Christine stroked over the baby's soft cheek. Anne was lying in her mother's arms, her eyes fluttering and her tiny little thumb between her rosebud lips. Christine tried to imagine what her little daughter was dreaming, while the whole world around her could simply find no rest.

Oh, Georgiana! Her sister was driving her insane. Why would she stay so stubborn, why would she not talk to her?

Many times she had proposed to call for a physician and she had always received a negative answer. And she had promised not to tell the family she was back in France. They thought everything was perfectly fine…but it was not.

There had to be a way to help her sister, somebody she could…All of a sudden Christine had an idea.

Carefully she put Anne into the cradle, before leaving the room. Luckily Hortense was at home at that hour, reading a novel in the parlor. She hoped this would work.

"Hortense, could you please help me with something?"

The younger girl put the book down. "Sure, what do you want?"

"Well, I need to write a letter."

All she received was a mischievous smile. "A love letter to my dear brother? Oh, please, no. I think I'm the wrong person for this."

"No. I mean…It's not for Edmond." She looked at the door, praying Georgiana would not decide to come down this moment. "There is somebody that could help Georgiana, I think."

A shadow laid itself over Hortense's features. Everybody had noticed the strange behaviour of the young woman. Everybody knew of the illness. They also knew that Georgiana did not want any help. But…who cared if she wanted or not? "What can I do?"

"I need to write a letter, and as I'm not yet comfortable in it I thought that you might do it for me." She looked down. Edmond had tried to teach her how to write and read – important for the wife of a man in trade. And he was a sailor. Being able to communicate even over long distances seemed tempting, but practice was harder than she had thought. She would need some time until she could write letters on her own.

"No problem. Come with me." Hortense put the book away and reached for her hand. Together they walked up and into the young girl's room. Hortense's chamber was decorated in light blue and cream – her own way of keeping close to her brother and the sea as the colours were on Michel's uniform. Her light wooden desk carried more than enough sheets of paper and two or three flasks with ink. "Alright, what shall I write?" Hortense was curiously awaiting the dictation of the so needed letter.

Twenty minutes and a lot of consideration later they both were pleased with the result.

To Madame Clarice Robault,

Dear Madame,

I hope you are well since our last meeting. I do not expect you to be able to recall who I am, but I am sure you remember my sister Georgiana.

This letter I write to you because I cannot see any other solution. Georgiana has fallen ill, very ill, but refuses to accept help. I do not know what is wrong with my sister, but I do know that without help she will die.

She grows weaker and weaker every week, but will not tell us the reason. You are our last hope. I know you can help us, for if you cannot my sister will probably not survive.

Please, I beg you. Something happened to her in England and I have no idea what that could be.

Sincerely sending her regards and awaiting your answer,

Christine Danglars

b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b

Georgiana was enjoying the tingling warmth the August sun left upon her skin. She was outside on the balcony, something she had not done for quite a while. No clouds in the sky, no nausea or trembling or fainting or pain – nothing to decrease the rate of satisfaction she felt today.

Well, let us say she was happy considering the circumstances. Nobody expected her to jump around laughing hysterically these days. But from her point on the balcony she could detect the azure blue sea. And the sight carried something soothing, something calming.

The air smelled of salt and grilled fish and she just had to close her eyes and imagine herself somewhere else entirely.

But instead of conceiving a quiet and pretty place her mind wandered to a room lit by hundreds of candles. The distinct odour of perfume and sweat lay in thick layers over the room. One's own words were barely audible over the laughter and lively jig tunes.

The ballroom in Chatsworth was filled with nobles and gentlemen from all of England, dancing and generally enjoying themselves.

_Flashback:_

_Her Grace had been telling Georgiana how the planning of her birthday party progressed and she had to admit – the event was a sight to behold. Georgiana and Cinàed had been to more balls and dinners than she could count, but none of them had been so grand. _

_The hostess had made a marvelous entry, clothed in rich fabrics in shades of burgundy red and gold and her light brown curls were adorned by a ruby diadem. Everyone was staring at the young duchess, except perhaps her own husband the duke and – Georgiana was pleased to notice that – Cinàed._

_His eyes would not leave her form. As if to make up to her for his sudden disappearing without an explanation he danced four dances in a row with her, until they had to take a break as the heat in the room grew to be quite oppressive._

_He led her away from the other dancers and to a nearby corner of the large room. In their way they passed a servant with a tray and Cinàed took two glasses of sparkling champagne for them._

_Georgiana tried to catch her breath, her whole body tingling with excitement. Her Grace had particularly wished to host a masked ball and now the estate was filled with men and women enwrapped in satin, velvet and silk, wearing masks of all shapes to hide their faces from the other guests._

_She thankfully took the glass Cinàed offered to her. Her eyes stole a glance to his handsome figure. A velvet waistcoat covered his upper body, black as the night and embroidered with golden threads. The right half of his face was hidden behind a matching mask, leaving the right side and everything below his nose uncovered and making it possible for her to see the mischievous smirk grazing his lips. She hit him lightly on the arm and continued to watch the dancing couples. _

_All of a sudden she felt his hot breath on her neck, the tip of his nose brushing over the delicate skin underneath her ear. "What are you thinking right now?" She could not see his face now, but she had noticed the smile in his voice. _

_She decided to tease him a little. "I'm wondering how such a dashing young gentleman could possibly prefer standing next to me while there are so many lovely ladies waiting for a dance partner."_

"_That's easy – when the lady in question is the most stunning woman in the room then the gentleman has no choice but to stay next to her." He said in such a nonchalant tone that she could not refrain from shaking her head, her cheeks burning._

"_Oh, please. You cannot fool me Sir. The daughter of a farmer will never be 'more stunning' than a lady from superior birth. It's just not the way things work."_

"_And yet…" His eyes bore into hers and she could feel his fingers caressing her throat. "The exception to the rule is standing right in front of me."_

_The blush on her cheeks deepened and she had to look down, away from the compelling depth of his eyes. She suddenly remembered that she still held a glass of wine in her hand and took a sip._

"_So" he said after a while. His hand had left her throat and he too looked at the couples on the dance floor. "I'm dashing?" And again she could hear the grin in his voice. She fell into fits of laughter._

_The song ended and Georgiana saw Lady Elizabeth and Lady Margret walking towards them. The two women in opulent gowns of green satin and light blue silk were not to be mistaken. _

"_Oh, my friend, you look wonderful!" Lady Elizabeth curtseyed in front of her and Georgiana returned the gesture a little unsure. From their last meeting she would never have thought them to be friends now. Not after her and her friends words._

_But she did not allow her feelings to become evident. She smiled at the two women, exchanged pleasantries and compliments, sensing Cinàed's amused smirk on her back. But that smirk soon vanished when Lady Margret directed her attention towards him. "Your Grace, I've lost my partner to a game of cards in the other room. Would you be so kind as to give me some comfort with the next dance?" She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a smile that caused Georgiana to freeze inwardly. A quick glace towards his face showed her his clenched jaw and she calmed herself. _

_He nodded and took the lady's hand, leading her to the dance floor. Now Georgiana was alone with Lady Elizabeth, but the other woman soon found an old friend of hers in the crowd and left her to herself._

_Nipping on her second glass champagne she watched Cinàed dance with the young countess. _Oh, Georgiana! Don't be so jealous! It's a ball, people dance with each other. Quit behaving so silly!

"_May I have the next dance?" She jumped at the strange voice so close to her. She looked up and straight into a pair of ice blue eyes. A young man stood in front of her, his broad shoulders and tall figure covered in dark blue fabric. His face she could not see under the matching blue mask, but he was not wearing a wig and she was surprised by the colour of his hair – a blond so light that it could have passed as white. His figure seemed to glow under the dim candle light. She caught herself staring and realized that he was waiting for a response._

"_Ehm...I do not think we have been introduced to one another." She frowned at the man's boldness. She could hear an accent in his voice, faint as it was, but she could not tell where he came from._

"_Oh, please do excuse my bad manners. No we have not. My name is Alexei Stravinsky, general in the Russian Army. And your name?"_

_A general? He looked far too young to be a general, but then…she had only little knowledge of such things. "Georgiana Valons." She replied after some consideration. "What does a young general do at a birthday party of this kind?"_

"_Well, I'm good friends with His Grace the Duke of Devonshire, and you? I'm surprised to find a Frenchwoman in England." His voice was filled with jest as he looked at her._

_She sighed dramatically. "What gave me away? My accent or my name?"_

"...Both_. But Everyone knows the Duke of Bedford went to France and returned with a lovely young native." He sent her an apologetic smile._

_She did not know how to respond to that and looked away. Her eyes were caught by Cinàed's and she could feel the curiosity and slight nervousness in them._

"_She's beautiful, isn't she?" She turned at the sound of Mr. Stravinsky's voice and saw him looking towards the same direction at Lady Margret. "But of course not as beautiful as his wife."_

_Georgiana suddenly felt as if a rope was wrapped around her throat, tightening it more and more. "Wha…what did you say?"_

"_Oh, just that his wife is superior to the lady the duke's dancing with. Do you not agree?"_

"_His…wife?" She had difficulty to breathe in the hot room._

"_Yes, the Duchess of Bedford, Lady Natasha." He eyed her skeptically. "I'm sorry, are you well?"_

"_Yes." She replied in a faint voice, fearing it would break if she were to speak louder. Her eyes were fixed by the forms of Lady Margret and Cinàed standing before one another as the music came to an end. "Yes. I'm perfectly fine." _


	12. Are You Sure?

A/N: Finally, holidays! Excuse me please that it again took so long, but during the last week I had no time to write at all. I barely had enough time to prepare for exams. And I also didn't want to cut this one off to early. See it as a xmas present for you: a long and dramatic chap before holidays ^^. So, hope you like it and if you have got some time in between Christmas preperations, please leave a comment.

Wish you all a merry Christmas and (should I not be able to update sooner) a happy New Year!

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Are You Sure?<strong>

_Deep breaths filled her lungs. She could no longer feel the ground underneath her feet. Her eyes were fixed upon Cinàed's form as he bowed before Lady Margret and turned towards her. It was as if the moment his eyes grazed hers and travelled to the man next to her his body froze into stone. She could practically see the blood drain out of his features and his teeth clinch._

_Slowly, then with wide strides he came towards them, his darkened eyes never leaving the stranger standing next to her. _

"_Alexei. What a surprise to see you here." He bowed his head slightly, his eyes burning with secret flames._

_The general bowed his head too, but his lips were grazed by a smile and the look in his ice blue orbs she could not read. "My friend, it is nice to meet you again after such a long time." His appearance was the incarnation of calmness._

"_I am not your friend. What do you want?" Cinàed hissed in a low voice. But whether shouting or whispering – the tone in his voice could not have been misunderstood. Georgiana realized soon that he would not show faux civility towards the man. No, there was animosity written all over his face. But why? Who was this General Stravinsky?_

_The ice blue eyes stole a quick glance towards Georgiana. "She's pretty." The fair man murmured as though he was speaking to himself._

"_What do you want?" Cinàed's voice grew now barely louder and he took a step towards the man, shielding Georgiana with his form._

"_Very pretty." Stravinsky's eyes lay on her. "I wonder…" he murmured while a frown formed on his forehead. _

"_Leave the girl alone." Cinàed's voice was now something like a growl, something she had not heard for quite some time, and some people standing nearby began to look at them in wonder. He only let out a sigh, tense and low. "Let us go somewhere more private now, shall we?" _

_He grabbed Stravinsky by the elbow, turning them both away. The blond man shook himself free and with a smirk upon his lips he led the way outside to the dark veranda. Georgiana, unsure whether her legs would carry her, took a step forth, but the stern tone in Cinàed's voice made her freeze. "You stay here." Then he joined the other man and without a glance back they left through the French doors._

_Only then did Georgiana realize she was holding her breath. Only then did she notice the other guests around her. Some where stealing hidden looks in her direction, but most laughed and drank and gossiped and joked. Nobody had actually noticed the scene that had taken place only seconds ago._

_A voice inside of her screamed _"He lied, Georgiana! You don't even know this man. Don't dare believe in what he says! You know Cinàed, he loves you!" _The voice grew louder and louder, more desperate and doubting by the moment. Why was she doubting? He had never given her a reason to doubt. Never, and yet…he had never denied that he was quite experienced in matters of the female sex. _

_After all he had lived for so long. But she could not believe it…that he should be a married man without telling her a word._

_No, he could not, would not hold something like that back, would he? A waiter passed by and she gratefully took a second glass champagne, the cool liquid stroking her senses. _

_Two minutes past - she crossed her arms and her fingertips drummed upon the sleeves of her gown. _

_Five minutes – She nipped on her champagne while carefully watching the French doors._

_Eight minutes – No, she could not stay there and wait! She wanted to know what was going on, _needed_ to know what was going on. _

_There were too many people in the room, all distracted in various discussions and dancing. No one would notice her leaving. She made her way through the groups of guests, passing a servant and giving him her empty glass. _

_Finally she reached the door leading to the veranda. Outside a cool breeze sent shivers down her spine. It was a pitch black night, no moon to light her surroundings. With quick hands she pulled off her mask, not caring if it landed on the ground. Her vision became wider and as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she descended the stairs on her left. _

_But now where to go? She found herself in the estate's garden, without a clue where she had to look for them. And she was not sure whether walking around alone would be a good idea. She waited for a sign, perhaps a piece of conversation, but there was nothing. It was freezing and the thin fabric of her light green gown offered little protection. She waited and waited, looked behind two or three corners, called for Cinàed, but after all of that she was as lonely as she had been before._

_She was about to return to the warmth of the ball when suddenly she heard the faint sound of breaking wood, coming from a pavilion on the other side of the estate. The fact that she had been able to hear something like that from such a distance was not very comforting and she hurried to get there. She could barely see the pavilion in the nightly darkness, thankful that she had walked the grounds many times before in daylight, so that she could somehow guess her way. _

_He closer she came, the better she could recognize the construction and after some more steps she noticed hushed voices, clearly male. With some satisfaction she realized she had found them. Carefully she approached, praying they would not notice her presence - at least not too soon._

_She hid behind a bush and began to listen._

"…_will be not happy to hear it." Stravinsky's voice, though calm and soft, gave away his annoyance. "She's worried."_

"_Then let her worry! I'm not obliged to her, nor will I ever be!" Cinàed, contrary to the other man, seemed unable to keep still. He ran his fingers through his dark curls, took long strides to cross the pavilion from one edge to the other. The mask lay solely on the ground. _

_A deep sigh followed, then words in a tongue she could not understand. It was not Irish for sure. No answer followed. She peeked from behind the bush, her heartbeat sounding as loud as thunder._

_Stravinsky's hand touched Cinàed on the upper arm, but he only shook him away. His eyes were hidden from her in the dark light, but she was sure they were spitting fire. "She has no reason to complain."_

"_But it's your duty…"_

"_Don't talk nonsense! I've done what was expected from me! And anyway – I'm human now. It would be illegal, should everything remain the same as before."_

_Another sigh, deep, long. The general sounded almost frustrated. "And what about the girl?"_

_A long pause. Then Cinàed's response came. A faint whisper, tired, exhausted. "What about her?"_

"_You can't be serious!"_

"_Why not?" He resumed his walking, his steps long and angry. Then suddenly he stood still, his face turned towards the night sky. "I pushed her through a lot already. I…many things have changed since you joined the army, Alexei."_

"_I've guessed as much." She heard a smile in Stravinsky's voice, though it was not a happy one. "So you will not tell her about Natasha? Don't you think she deserves to know?"_

"_There's no need to make life more complicated than it already is." He sat down on a bench inside the pavilion, his head resting upon his right fist._

_Stravisky, as far as she could see, looked at the man in front of him for what felt like ages, then he let out a sigh and turned. "I'm sorry my friend. She already knows."_

_From one second to the other the scene changed – Cinàed stood up from the bench and before Georgiana could understand what was going on his fingers were wrapped around the blond man's throat. He may have been human, but his reflexes were still remarkably fast._

_In that moment she realized that she had held her breath and took in the fresh oxygen, her whole body trembling. She had to do something._

"_Stop!" Without thinking she jumped out from behind of the bush and rushed towards the two men, her hands trying to pull them apart. "Please stop!" _

_Cinàed let go of Stravinsky, only to stare at her with wide eyes. She had to look away, could not bear the questioning and baffled storms of mercury and liquid silver. Her throat tightened and she stumbled a few steps back. Stravinsky's gaze was shifting between the two of them._

_Slowly angered was mixed into the expression in Cinàed's features and he clenched his teeth. "You knew she was here. You knew and didn't say a word." His tone was alarmingly low, yet cold as ice. "Leave."_

"_My friend, please."_

"_Has the Russian winter stolen your sense of hearing? I said: Leave!" His eyes returned to her._

_Stravinsky nodded and with an apologetic into his companion's direction, he bowed before Georgiana, "Good by, Mademoiselle." and left into the darkness of the landscape._

_Now Georgiana and Cinàed were left alone. Silence laid itself over them, not a single words was uttered. All the while she could feel his gaze burning into her skin, but she could not look up, instead directed her attention to the bench inside the tiny building, the dark grayish silhouettes of the large trees or the sound of water running through a nearby stream. On everything but him._

_She did not know how long they stood like that, silent the atmosphere around them filled with questions neither of them was sure should be asked or not. Her lips felt as if they were glued to one another, her tongue dry and sticky. With great effort she managed to open her mouth, but the first time her voice broke. Shaking she pressed her eyes close, before going for a second attempt. "Is it true?" In her mind she cursed herself, for her voice sounded so weak, so unsteady._

_No answer came, not one word and with her eyes now wide open she looked straight into his face. She could see the edge of his jaw trembling – with what a force he must clinch his teeth. "Is it true?" Luckily her voice was stronger now, though the tone was unnervingly desperate._

_But the seconds passed, became minutes, and still she stood there without an explanation from him. But did she need anything more? Was not his silence answer enough? She began to feel tears burning in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. But she would not do that. No, she would not cry in front of him!_

_With a snort she turned and with long and fast steps left the pavilion. She could not return to the ball. No, she wanted to go home, now! The fact that he followed her silently she tried to ignore when she approached one of the servants on the front courtyard. In a hurried voice she told him to make her carriage ready. _

_She had hoped he would not have followed her into the carriage, but how silly a though that was! Of course he would come with her, go home. He had stood right behind her all the time after all. The ride was spent in absolute silence…what else? Once she was biting down on her lip, until she could taste blood, or she would fumble with her fingers, all the while feeling his burning stare on her._

_And how thankful she was when they arrived at the estate. As soon as the carriage door was opened she stepped out, not carrying if the servants would gossip later. But he obviously did not want to let her go just like that. She just felt something holding her back by the arm, the touch – his touch – like needles piercing her skin. "Don't touch me!" _

_Surprising her he let go of her arm immediately, but his eyes continued to beg her silently. She did not want to see this. It was as if her legs moved on their own, carrying her to her apartment. She heard him calling her name, but did not look back._

_On entering inside her rooms she wanted to smash the door close, but the desired noise did not come. She saw him coming into the room, his one hand holding the door._

_She suddenly felt fury burn inside of her. "What do you want? Leave me alone!"_

"_We must talk."_

"_There's nothing to talk about! Now leave me alone!"_

"_Georgiana, please."_

"_Just tell me one thing – do you care so little for my feelings that you lied to me?" In her mind she shouted, but her voice was quiet and cold. Cold as ice._

_He stared at her baffled. "No, of course not…"_

"_Then why, Cinàed? Why did you lie to me? How could you keep that from me?" She remembered that an hour ago he had not even planned to ever tell her._

_His eyes rushed around and his fingers ran through his hair. A sigh, exhausted, frank, escaped his lips. "I don't know. I…well, I hoped that it did not matter."_

"_Did not matter? But you're a married man! Nothing could matter more!"_

"_I'm married only on paper."_

"_But you are married." _

"_Yes. I am married, but I don't love her. I…it was…I had to marry her." He breathed in deeply. "I can't tell you the reason, but it was certainly not out of love. I love you Georgiana, you and you only."_

_She wanted to believe his words, wanted to go to him and forget everything, but how could she? Instead the anger she felt grew once more. "You claim to love me! Did you say that to all your women?"_

"_What?" _

"_Oh, please. All of England sees me as your mistress, your newest plaything. You own quite the reputation."_

"_Not this again."_

"_Why not?" She knew exactly what he meant – they already had a small discussion about those stories back in France. "Why should we not discuss it?"_

"_Because it is stupid to discuss something that has nothing to do with you!"_

"_But it does! You say you love me, yet you have been closer with these women than you have with me. Do you even know how many children you have fathered or have you lost count?"_

"_Georgiana…" His voice rose, the tone in it dangerously dark. She did not care._

"_What?" She asked in an innocent voice. "Am I not speaking the truth? Do I not deserve to know the truth?" _

"_Let me explain…"_

"_What is there to explain, Cinàed? You are married to somebody else, that's it. I just want to know what I'm here for."_

"_I wanted to tell you." He cried out, the desperation in his features making her wince. "I wanted to tell you, but…"_

"…_but you couldn't." She finished for him after he remained silent. "You could not tell me because you don't trust me." How quietly the words left her mouth! How exhausted she suddenly felt!_

_He looked up and straight into her eyes. "No, it wasn't that. I trust you more than anyone else in the world. It…I just…It didn't matter at the time. It wasn't important."_

_Suddenly she felt the anger inside her again. "How could his not be important?" She cried, then, biting down on her finger, she turned away from him. "So that's why you would never come close to me?" she whispered after a long pause._

_She could see his reflection on the window and he had not moved an inch. "I hoped no one would notice. That they would not realize."_

"_Not realize? The whole of England thinks I'm either your wife or your mistress!" The snort that followed her words was weak and she stroked with her hand over her forehead. "The funny thing is…that I'm neither. A mistress is closer to her lover than I to you."_

"_I love you." He whispered, but the words sounded unbearably loud to her. _

_When he slowly approached her, reaching out with his hand, she felt the impulse to leave, to flee, but before she could reach the door he grabbed her on the upper arm, turned her towards him and pressed his lips onto her own with such a rough force like he had only done once before on the night of their first kiss. _

_It felt so good to feel him again, the warmth and strength of his body, the sweetness of his lips and breath. She held onto his shirt with both hands, like someone drowning. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest and her whole body was trembling as one by one the tears rolled down her cheeks. She pressed herself hard against his body, no space was left between them. He cupped her cheek with one hand and placed the other delicately on her lower back. Too soon he broke away._

_Her breathing came hard as she looked into his darkened eyes. Too long had she felt alone._

"_I love you, Gee. You're my life." His breath too was quickened as he spoke in a low voice. Underneath her palms she could feel his heartbeat._

_She had no idea what brought her to say that. How she could ever think it. Maybe the wine in her system helped, but she had no better idea. "Then show me. Show me that you love me. More then these other women." _

_For moments he just stared back at her, his eyes piercing her own, until all of a sudden a determined look grazed his features and he pressed his hungry lips back onto hers, before pulling her up into his arms. She barely noticed that they were moving and before she knew it she landed on the bed, his lips not having left her body. A sigh escaped her mouth as he gave her little kisses, sweet and short. _

_Then he looked at her again. His eyes seemed darker, his skin paler than usual. "Are...you sure…you want to do this?"_

_She replied by engaging his lips once more. _

_b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b&b_

_She had no idea why she had done that or what she had expected from it. Fact was that it was not the way it used to be. There was always something between them, something they never spoke of after that evening, but had not vanished from her mind. _

_She felt dirty and low and it was worse in his presence. This was not her, this was not the way she had been brought up by Adelaide and Hugo. _

_He too did not say much, kept mostly to the music room or his study while she stayed in her apartment. _

_She had never thought this possible. She could never have believed that this would happen to her. And perhaps she was weak, or naïve, or childish, or even egoistic, but after four day she had enough – enough of England, enough of the rain, enough of the silence and tenseness…and enough of him._

_When she packed her things with the help of a depressed Isabeau and a confused Stefanie – she had not spoken to them about the events of the last few days – he did not protest. When she informed him of her plans he offered to pay the journey to Marseille. When she stepped into the carriage he did not hold her back._

_His obvious disinterest felt like knifes inside her chest, but she did not cry during the whole voyage. What comfort was there in crying after all?_


	13. Shame and Regret

A/N: Hey guys, hope you all had nice holidays! I'm busy with so much other stuff right now that I had no ideas for the next chap, but thankfully that changed. I've also corrected some of the typos in the last one, but should you find more in the story then please tell me and I'll correct them. Ok, hope you like it and have a nice day ^^

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Shame and Regret<strong>

Georgiana had been in her room when she heard the door bell on a rather cloudy morning in June. Expecting it to be one of Christine's new friends she remained in her room. The window was open and a fresh sea breeze, carrying with it the scent of salt and olive trees and rain, travelled through her chamber and loosened a curl of dark auburn hair from her hair knot. As so often since her return from England she had not taken breakfast, but a glass of water with one or two slices of lemon in it was lying on a little table next to her.

But she was mistaken and the person on the door was not a friend of her sister's, but rather one of her own. Great was her surprise when the door of her room opened slowly and Christine together with Clarice stood in the door frame, her look careful, but nonetheless curious.

Clarice had not changed at all during the last couple of months, or let us say – there was no doubt in her countenance that it was her standing there. Her features and her form were still the ones of a kind and sweet grandmother, but her eyes did not hide the fierce lioness behind. Perhaps Georgiana had not paid attention the first time she had met the elder woman, or it was because she had not seen her for such a long time, but it was as if the lady could change her appearance - either giving the small vulnerable granny or the cunning witch.

But time had changed and many things happened. Could Georgiana trust her now?

"Clarice. What a surprise." The girl slowly stood up from her chair, the piece of needlework she had been working on still in her hands. Her eyes were fixed on the ground.

"I received a letter." She sounded unusually tense and spoke low. Georgiana could not tell what Clarice was feeling at that moment.

"Have you." Eyes still fixed on the floor.

"From your sister." The woman began to walk through the room and towards the window, while Christine still stood in the doorframe, not daring to move as Georgiana could sense.

The words made her look up surprised and her eyes seeked her sister's. Christine had written to Clarice? How? When? She could guess the reason.

"Christine?" Her sister would not meet her stare and that was response enough. "Why would you do that?"

The blonde girl only entered the room, closing the door behind her. But it was Clarice who gave her an answer. "I believe she is worried for you." Her words were followed by a deep sigh.

"Is she?" Georgiana's eyes changed between Clarice and her sister while a frown appeared on her forehead. She was still unsure what she should think of all this. And she also felt a sudden annoyance she could not explain. "Well, she shouldn't be."

Clarice turned now fully towards her again. Her face was grazed by a worried look, something Georgiana tried to ignore. "Girl, I do not see you well too. One must be blind not to notice the change in you."

Why was everyone so concerned for her health as if she were a child? _What's wrong Georgiana? Are you well Georgiana?_ What's the matter with them? "Change? What a change?" Playing ignorant would perhaps shut their mouths for good…or perhaps not.

Clarice suddenly came so close that Georgiana instinctively took a step behind. The lady's eyes were darkened, staring at her with an expression so sharp, it pierced Georgiana and she could no longer meet her eyes. Then she spoke with a voice filled with icy coldness and what the girl thought to be disgust.

"Don't try to fool me! How dare you play the stupid? Indeed, who do you think I am?" Then the loud voice subdued and became a murmur hard as stone. "It is not the first time I see this and trust me the woman would have died were it not for my help."

The elder woman's breath came hard and she again eyed Georgiana with a look the girl could not understand. She felt a tingling in her fingertips and her heart beat echoed uncomfortably loud in her ears. For some time there was silence until Georgiana could find words. "I…don't know what you mean."

Clarice gave her a smile, though weak and faint it was and soon it vanished, giving way to a worried shadow over her features. "I see something in your eyes...something that wasn't there before…and something that should not be there."

"Aha…is that all?" She did not know why she felt so nervous, but a cold shiver crawled up her spine. She did not want to be here and talk about nonsense. _Something in her eyes_, really?

But Clarice seemed angered too. "No, that is not all." The stare she gave Georgiana with her knowing eyes was too intense for the girl's liking. Somehow she had the feeling Clarice knew everything, everything that happened in England. But whether it was to punish her or out of some other reason Clarice still spoke out the words Georgiana feared the most.

"Are you pregnant?"

Almost instantly Christine rushed towards her. "What? Pregnant?" All colour was drained from her face and she stared at Georgiana with unbelieving eyes. "You're pregnant?"

But all the time Georgiana's eyes would not leave Clarice. Her fingers shivered and she made fists not to show it. "Leave." She spoke after a little eternity. Her voice was cold, and she whispered, fearing that her voice would reveal her feelings. "Leave this house."

No word was uttered for a long time. Georgiana's glare was met by Clarice's calm eyes while Christine switched unbelievingly between the two women. When Clarice made a move towards the door the blonde tried to persuade her to stay, but nothing she would say helped and soon afterwards Clarice curtseyed in front of them and left the room.

"No, please wait!" Christine attempted to run after her, but Georgiana caught her elbow. "Don't." A wave of exhaustion rushed over her and she felt strangely calm and agitated at the same time. She felt a desire to lie down and just sleep for the remainder of the day "Let her go."

"Let her go? What's wrong with you?" The older girl's cheeks blushed in a deep red and Georgiana's hand on her elbow was roughly shaken off. The sisters stared at each other until Georgiana turned away. She had seen the disgust in Christine's eyes.

But Christine would not let her escape like this. "She tried to help you."

"Well, she should quit it."

"Is that your reply to everyone who worries for you? You've been awful since your return"

"Stop worrying."

Before she could realize what happened Georgiana already felt stinging sensation on her left cheek. With wide eyes she looked at Christine whose face was flushed with fury. Her hand was still half raised and thousands of emotions ran over her features. "Please, stop that! I beg you!" Then she shook her head. "What happened to you that you behave so cold and aloof? Do you feel no shame, no regret?"

"Regret for what?" The words stirred something in Georgiana. All exhaustion was gone in a second and all she felt was annoyance and a wish to smash something against the wall. "For what should I feel regret. Why should I be ashamed? What have I done? Leaving my family? Living together with a married man and dreaming of a future with him, while everybody laughs at me behind my back? Giving everything to him for nothing? No, that's hardly enough to provoke shame and regret." The sarcasm gave her voice strength. "Now please tell me, why should I feel ashamed?"

"Georgiana, I didn't…"

"What, you didn't know? Did you expect me to tell you all these good news?" She snorted, her vision began to blur, but she fought against the tears. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"But how? How can Cinàed be married? After all that happened, how can he toy with you like this?" Christine's voice grew soft until it was no more than a whisper.

Silence followed. Then Georgiana decided to tell her of the night of the ball, how she had met Alexei Stravinsky and learned the truth. Her eyes were directed towards the ground and not once would she raise them. Her voice was low and the lack of emotion in it surprised even her.

When she had finished neither knew what else to say and no word was uttered for what seemed to them more like years, rather than mere moments.

Carefully Christine searched for words. "So you…you're…carrying his child?"

Georgiana managed to nod before the hot tears eventually broke her resolve, running down her cheeks and wetting her clothes, face and hands.


	14. You Have Reached Your Final Destination

AN: Hey, well, it's been quite a while since I last updated, but I wasn't really sure where I was heading with the plot. I didn't just want to write about how cruel and dramatic the world was towards Georgie, so I looked for some new ideas how to make the story more intresting and now I think I finally found something. So, we already know what's going on with Georgie, but what about Cinàed? Well, I hope you like it and I think I can work with that. Ok, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: You Have Reached Your Final Destination<strong>

He did not feel the cold of the ancient stone walls as he walked down the dim corridor. All he heard were his own steps on the marble floor, his own takes of breath, but he was not alone. The concentrated power that flowed through the underground halls confused his senses, kept them intoxicated. He detested the feeling that came every time he was near _them_.

So they had lit up the candles along the walls just for him. How polite of them! Two _Velaj_ – royal guards - were walking close behind him, ready to step in action should he even consider the idea of doing something stupid. The thought brought a smile onto his lips – how often he had caused them trouble. But today he was not here as a prisoner, at least not yet.

As he came closer to the _Aras Neal _- the Great Hall – his fingertips grew numb and his throat felt dry. The bronze doorknob turned with surprising ease under his hand.

They were already waiting for him. He did not have to turn to know that the two guards had bowed before them and taken their post beside the door. Instead he looked at the two men and the woman before him. One of them was Alexej and he seemed utterly uncomfortable standing there with the two elders. But he did not care how Alexej felt at that moment. It was that bastard's fault that he was here, after all. Had he kept quiet then Cinàed would not be here. Damnit!

Long silence laid itself over the room, and with every second that passed his throat tightened more and more.

"You fool!" The man before him approached him with quick strides, halting inches before him and the dark purple fabrics of his robe scrooping against his legs. "You little bastard! Give me a good reason why I should not squash you like a bug right now. Have you any idea what you have done?"

The man's fingers suddenly wrapped themselves around Cinàed's throat. He simply closed his eyes and waited for it to end. This was not the first time and probably not the last as well. "Uncle, let me speak…"

"How dare you!" The pressure around his neck grew. "How dare you call me _uncle _after this? You are no nephew of mine, you little cockroach!" But he let go of him and instead began to chase around the room.

Cinàed turned his gaze towards the woman. She was the calmest of the three, her cold eyes meeting his with their usual composure.

"Aunt." He managed a half-smile, followed by a bow. For the split of a second he could see these eyes fill with warmth, but before either of their companions could notice this the warmth was once again replaced by ice cold calmness.

"_Nephew._ It has been a long time."

"Indeed, it has." He was surprised that she was even allowed to be in this part of the palace – she, as a witch, was technically even beneath him.

Their kin was allowed to mix with witches, old and powerful as they were, but still a witch had no place in their hierarchy. That his aunt was nonetheless regarded as one of the elders was only thanks to her marriage to his uncle. And everything was better than human blood in one's family.

"Could you explain to me what was not alright with Natasha? Rich, beautiful and of one of the oldest bloodlines – too good for you, I should say. It is only thanks to what I could save from our old status that I could catch her for you. Your children would have saved us, but of course you had to act in such a selfish manner." His uncle stopped and stared at him angrily. Cinàed could guess the direction this was heading to and he did not like it. He stared back, unwilling to respond to such a statement.

But his uncle seemed to want an answer. Before any one of them realized it he had already taken one of the vases on the nearest table and thrown it against the wall, were it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. His hard breathing filled the air. Cinàed could sense the guard's growing tension. "My lord, please…" He tried to reason with him in a calm tone, knowing that it was a waste of time.

"Is she carrying your child? Is she to bear the next _prince_, that lovely lady of yours?"

"I do not understand." Of course he understood exactly what his uncle meant. He knew of Georgiana, how could he not? Everyone in that hole knew of her.

"Do you think this is a joke?" The lord demanded to know, but Cinàed could not answer. He'd rather die than say the words the man wanted to hear. Instead he met his uncle's burning gaze.

"It was the same story with my brother. History repeating itself." A deep laugh escaped the lord's throat.

"And I knew it, did I not? I told him that nothing good could result from mixing with a human whore. And what a clever whore – not long before he had her with child."

"How dare you call my mother a whore!"

"He knew the bloody consequences, he knew them! But did that keep him from still doing it? No, it didn't and now he's dead and the human bitch too. And it's all your fault!"

"Shut up. Shut up!"

"Please, Father…" Alexej took a step toward him.

"Had you not been born then my brother would still be alive, the bloodline would still be kept. But you…you are completely useless. A half-blood, a damn half-blood, that's all!"

"Ambrosio." Cinàed's aunt stood up and approached her husband.

"And now, look at what happened! Just like your damn father, aren't you? You have brought shame over us, shame over your family, shame over our race, you little piece of dirt!" Again the sound of shattering glass was heard. "And for what? For one night with your human slut, you ungrateful little insect!"

This was too much. Cinàed felt flames fill his veins and mind, he could no longer think clearly. The growl inside his throat became a roar and the next moment he felt his fist collide with the man's jaw. He began kicking and biting, his view a blazing red. Then he was suddenly was lifted off the ground. What had happened?

As the two _Velaj _kept him from further fighting, he realized that he had apparently thrown his uncle to the ground. Alexej and his aunt were helping him up. A dark red stream was forming its way down the man's chin. "Bring him to his cell. He is not to leave them until the day of the tribunal."

The guards nodded and nearly dragged him out the room and down the familiar corridors. He struggled all the way down to the dungeons. His senses may have been intoxicated, still the smell of dead flesh and excrements filled his lungs, causing his stomach to twist in remembrance. The dim light, the only source of light being the torches along the walls, embraced him with icy hands.

He was sure that everyone in that damn place could hear his screams of protest. He did not care. He did not care that he broke a guard's nose and that they had to call for help. He did not care what everyone would think of him later on. He could not go to that place again. No, he could not, would not. Every bone and hair screamed against it. But he was not strong enough to fight against the guards that dragged him closer and closer to the last cell in the row.

He felt the cold stone underneath his body as the sound of the iron door being locked mocked his very soul. Once again he had managed to land here.

Welcome to hell!


	15. Moonless Night

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry once more for the delay. School took away every minute of my free time. I hate to admit that I won't be able to upload more often, though I wish I could as I did with "A Flower".

Well, yeah I know this one here is kind of a filler, but I promise the next chap will be more interesting. I have still not given up on this story! So please enjoy. And if you would be so kind, please leave a review. A great "thank you" to all who have given me their opinion up until now!

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Moonless Night<strong>

It was not more than the sudden sensation of a hand on her shoulder that caused her to open her eyes. First she saw nothing but the blurry ceiling, then, after realizing that she was lying in her own bed, Georgiana turned slightly only to notice Clarice staring at her with worried eyes.

"Wha…you? Why?" She looked around, but her vision was bathed in pitch blackness. It had to be the middle of the night. "What time is it?" Georgiana tried to move, her limbs hurt and her whole body seemed to be covered in cold sweat. "What happened?"

"Shh…you screamed in your sleep." Clarice, who had been hovering over her, now stood up and lit up a candle. "Get up and wash yourself. I placed some clothes for you on the chair. Quick!" The woman hurried from one corner of the room to the other, carrying gowns and handkerchiefs in her arms. Her eyes did not linger on Georgiana, but seemed to be searching for something in the dim light.

The girl could only watch in silence. Oh how limp her body felt and how heavy her eye lids. Whatever was going on at the moment, it was no excuse to wake her from her sleep, especially at such an hour. She was about to lay back and close her eyes when a grim voice told her to stand up immediately.

"Will you hurry up, please? We don't have enough time for this." Clarice gave her a stern look. "You'll have more than enough time to sleep in the carriage." Then she got back to whatever she had been doing until then.

Only then did the girl notice the bags on the floor - Clarice was packing. "What carriage? Where is Christine?"

"Sleeping."

"And what is this?" It was not easy to hide the annoyance in her tone.

Clarice stopped mid-track and raised her eyes to meet Georgiana's. She looked as if she thought for the best way to answer. "We are going on a trip.", came the sober answer.

"A trip?" And where?" What was going on here?

"Ireland…and hurry now or we shall be late. They are already expecting us." Clarice did not meet her eyes again. Everything seemed to be packed now to her obvious satisfaction and Georgiana's utter confusion.

"Who is expecting us, Clarice?"

"Hurry up now. Downstairs there's some wine and bread for you."

"Who is expecting us?" But before she could finish the question the door had closed behind the lady and Georgiana was again alone in her chamber.

Yes, this had been weird, but something about the word _Ireland _did not sound that well at all.

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One of the things a pregnant woman should not do? – Travelling by ship. How Clarice had managed to find a captain willing to set off from Marseille to Ireland before dawn was still a mystery to her.

Let us say…it was not what one would call a joyous or comfortable voyage. No, she had kept to her chamber most of the time. But even though the event of her joining Clarice and the crew was rare, she was pretty much sure that they both were the only passengers on board. Indeed, the ship was not a very big one and she had not expected a crowd of people, but really the only people she met were members of the crew.

But as things were, she somehow could not have cared less.

Have you ever felt as if your own body did not belong to you? Felt feelings and emotions you simply could not explain? Georgiana was scared.

Sometimes she would feel so angry, such a hate growing inside of her that it threatened to tear her apart. In her sleep she heard a voice, always the same one, telling her stories of how her own family was against her.

_"You know I am telling you the truth. They are jealous people...envy you because of your fortune...fine houses. Trust me...the only one who loves you."_

The voice was like a knife. But everytime she woke up the voice was gone. Just like that. But the hatred would still be there, linger inside of her like a sleeping cat, ready to run its claws through her mind.

The little bump on her stomach was now clearly visible, though she still managed to hide it underneath the layers of her dresses. Her hands would tremble each time her view would descend a bit towards it. She knew that there were ways to get rid of it. She had heard of women selling potions and herbs. And Clarice was a witch after all...but could she do it?

Could she kill a child that was not yet born? And that was growing inside of her? Did she even have a choice? Her child would be a bastard, a nobody in this world. Growing up without a father and with an unmarried mother, what a life would that be?

On the other hand, she would be a murderer. She would be banned from society forever, probably ending up in a prison and awaiting her own execution should she dare kill her unborn baby. Oh, what should she do? What could she do?

She felt ashamed for these thoughts and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The hatred was now directed at herself.

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His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness in no time. His skin did no longer shudder at the icy coldness that surrounded him. Somewhere at the back of his mind he sensed a sharp pain on his chest...and his back ached. He probably should sit up, but his body would not move.

He had no idea since how long he was lying on his back. Minutes, days...maybe hours?

He had fought the first couple of days. The guards had not entered his cell since he broke one's arm and bit the leg of another.

In his cell there was no window. No, his oncle had taken care of that years ago. The only way for oxygen to enter this room was through a tiny open space in the iron door. The smell of old blood and cold sweat burned in his lungs. It was his blood and his sweat hanging in the air since centuries.

How often had he been here? Well, not since about fifty years...or was it fifty-three? Who cares? He had hoped it would be for the last time.

He wondered how she was doing. Was she safe? She probably despised him now more thatn anyone else. Or at least he hoped she felt hate towards him. He could handle hatred, but not indifference. No, not indifference.

She would forget about him, marry some nice guy with a farm and a face as red as a tomato. She would be happy...and eventually grow indifferent towards him.

The pain in his chest became worse as the comforting white light surrounded him. He knew that tonight would be a moonless night.


	16. Angel in the Cell

A/N: First of all: I'M SOOOOOOO SORRY!

I really wanted to upload sooner and the chap has been finished since almost a week, but my computer would not work the way it should. I'm really sorry for making you wait for so long, but at least this chapter is longer than the last one.

And a big THANK YOU to everyone who's sent me a review or added my story to their favourites or alert lists. I'm soo happy to know that my writing so slow has not driven all of you away. Thank you very much!

Ok, well hope you like the new chapter and if you do have time please give me your opinion. Bye!

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><p><strong>Chapter 16: Angel in the Cell<strong>

Upon their arrival here they had given her a chamber of her own. Or should she say a cell of her own?

A maid served her three meals every day. But the girl would neither talk to nor look at her. Her face would be hidden behind dark cloth and her youth was only visible through her white soft looking hands.

In fact, she had not talked to anyone since at least two days – The time they had arrived here. But where was _here_? Clarice would not respond to any of her questions and she did not dare ask anyone else in this place. Everybody had their faces hidden from her. It was as if one was surrounded by shadows. The few people she had seen here hardly seemed to talk, from time to time only a few whispered words in a strange language and cold glances would follow her through the dimly lit corridors of the building.

She was certain it was an ancient place – no building, be it palace or cottage, she had ever been at looked like this:

Cold smooth stone walls with rich carpets in shades of red and gold hanging down from them. There were no windows at all, wherever they were it was underground. The only source of light were the candles and fires lit in every part of the…palace? Prison?

Where were they? Why had Clarice brought her here? And where was the witch, anyway?

Her nightmares had not subdued and she often woke up bathed in her own sweat. And to make things worse she felt herself being observed. It was as if invisible eyes burned her skin, yet she was the only person in the room.

Right in that instant she heard a sound, clears as a bell and at the same time making the blood in her veins freeze - A laugh. Yes, it was a laugh. A women's laugh, she was certain of that.

"Hello? Is there anyone?" Her voice sounded more like a cough than anything else. She stood up from the bed on which she had lain since sometime in the morning. With her hands she stroked the bare stone beside her head. "Hello? Can anybody hear me? Please, I need to know what place this is." Again the person laughed faintly then Georgiana was once more embraced by silence.

"Please, where am I?" Even to her the words were barely audible. Her throat grew tighter and her knees would no longer support her weight, so she fell to the ground.

She was fed up! When had her live begun to be so miserable? Why was she here? Why would no one speak to her, answer her questions? What the hell was she doing here? She just wanted to go home and lie in her bed. She wanted to see Hugo and Adelaide again, to feel their embrace and warm words. She missed them so much. And she missed Edmond. Everything had been so much easier with him, with them. Why had she chosen this life instead? What had she gained from it other than anger and pain and loneliness?

No…she was not alone. Her eyes descended for less than a second. She did not dare to touch the tiny yet steadily growing bump. She was not alone and that was the biggest problem of all.

Her blood was boiling and she let out a cry. Who cared if she was loud? Then, all of a sudden it felt as if two ice cold arms wrapped around her shoulders.

_They left you…abandoned you in blind ignorance and silence. We are your friends…trust us._

It was that voice again – the one that had followed her the last few weeks, the one that had haunted her dreams and thoughts. It was neither male nor female, as dark and cold as the walls surrounding her. Her heart beat so fast that it hurt.

Her eyes widened as she saw something crawling up the wall in front of her. Was it shadows? Or perhaps smoke? Slowly it took the form of a hand.

_Don't be afraid. We are your friends._

She could not move as her eyes saw how the hand seemed to leave the wall and instead approached her, wide open as if to catch her.

…_Trust us…_

A knock on the door was heard and Georgiana found the strength to spin around toward the door. Heavily breathing she again directed her eyes on the wall in front of her, but the hand was gone, nothing was left of it.

After taking a deep breath she turned again to face the door, which was now being opened. But the one who entered was not the maid. And neither was it Clarice...or anyone she knew.

No, the first who entered her chamber were two guards, their faces hidden behind black cloth. Georgiana wondered how they could see anything as there were no holes made for the eyes. They also wore dark tunics and wide trousers as well as leather belts with different kinds of knives and daggers hanging on them. The only thing light in their appearance was their white skin, whiter than Cinàed's as far as she could tell. In the dim light it shined lightly golden.

The guards positioned themselves next to the door to allow the last person to enter…the most beautiful woman Georgiana had ever seen.

Her hair shone in a shade of dark gold and reached down to her slim hips in smooth waves. Her full lips were graced by a faint smile - she was a classic beauty. The sight would make every woman hold in their breath. She was wearing a long gown of dark red brocade, embracing her petite figure. It was fitted in a strange fashion and resembled the dresses Georgiana had seen on old scrolls of the Middle Ages in Cinàed's library back in England. The ladies on those scrolls had long wavy hair as well, and their skin was of the same fair tone. Georgiana eyed the stranger suspiciously, her eyes a bit widened, trying to get every detail in. Carefully she stood up.

First the beautiful stranger just stood in the middle of the room, not speaking, just running with her eyes over the walls and furniture, her upper lip lightly curled. Georgiana did not know what to say. She was not even sure that she would be able to open her mouth at that moment.

No word was uttered while the woman's eyes ran up and down the walls of the cell before stopping at Georgiana. The girl suddenly felt very self-conscious. Her own once shiny brown curls fell now rather limp down her shoulders, dark circles underneath her eyes made her look like a skeleton. And the bump under her dress seemed to grow by the second.

The stranger gave her a smile she could not identify. The stranger's eyes were gleaming, yet she could not tell whether it was with amusement, interest or something else entirely.

"Ehm..." Georgiana's throat was so tight. "Excuse me, but who are you...madam?" How should she even adress the noble lady in front of her?

She had to wait awfully long for a response. So long that in fact she had wondered whether the woman would say something at all. Then eventually a clear soft voice uttered the words "You are not what I had expected."

Georgiana's stared down, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks. She had no idea how to respond to that. But before she could open her mouth the lady continued.

"Well, you are brunette, he always prefered brunettes. You are quite tall and slim enough, I guess. But..." And she took one step toward Georgiana without breaking their locked gazes. "Can you sing?"

"No, madam."

"Then perhaps perhaps play an instrument very well? The violine?"

"No, madam."

"Are you the daughter of a human noble?"

"No, madam." What kind of question was that? _Human _noble? Then Georgiana felt a twitch in her knees - this stranger was no human! This confused her even more. What was this all about and did she have to leave her home? She suddenly felt not as save in her cell as she had moments ago.

"Oh, this is so frustrating!" The blonde lady began to pace the room, her arms passively on her sides. "At least you must have a knowledge of the world? What languages do you speak, beside French of course?"

"A little English, madam, but not very fluently."

"Oh! This is so frustrating!" And her golden curls wipped up and down as she accelerated the speed of her pacing. "It's so typical of him to vex me, but this time I don't understand at all!"

Georgiana thought that it would be better to remain silent, but somehow her mouth was faster. "Excuse me? What do you mean? What is so frustrating?"

"Until now he always turned up with the crème de la crème of European society. Not quite worthy rivals to me, but still satisfying enough. But you...You do not fit into his pattern. You...are supposed to compete against me? Please don't be offended, but the mere thought makes me laugh." And at the same moment she did laugh, lightly like the sound of bells or like angel's laughter.

Only then did Georgiana notice a detail she had failed to see sooner - perhaps it was the light or the girl had finally turned mad, but...the strangers eyes shone brightly in dark shades of red. Even through the distance between them she could still see the flames dancing within them.

"Madam...who are you?" She doubted that the other woman had failed to notice the trembling in her voice.

The beautiful stranger stopped to laugh immediately, the red flames in her irises transforming into an icy blue. It had been the wrong question.

"Oh, please excuse my terrible manners. I've quite forgotten to introduce myself to you." Her tone matched the new colour of her eyes. "My name is Natasha Marja Kuranina, daughter of Lord Kuranin." Then a sly smile graced those sensual lips.

"And you...you are sleeping with my husband."


	17. Rubies

Author's notes: Hello, and I hope you aren't too angry with me for not keeping my promise. If there is no problem with my electronic devices then it's school or something else that keeps me away from continuing this story. Partially also the uncertain feeling where this plot is leading to. I'm not quite sure that this is what I wanted, but for the moment I will continue to follow the path I've set for myself.

And I want to thank all my readers, both old and new, that you are joining me on it. I would hug you all if I could, but that is a little difficult when all you have in front of you is an old computer screen. I'd love to recieve a review or two, though I feel like not deserving them with all this delay.

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: Rubies<strong>

Georgiana had often dreamt and wondered about her future. A few months ago she would never have believed that her life would turn out like this. Almost a year ago the most thrilling experience had been her relationship with Edmond, her adoptive brother.

But right now she was standing in front of a young woman with blood red eyes and this same woman was telling her that she was…his wife! Was this supposed to be a joke?

But of course not, how could this be a joke? How could it be a joke when she could feel the lady's blazing stare upon her abdomen? No, this was one hundred percent real.

Something was fighting its way up Georgiana's throat. Not quite a lump, more like a hysterical and completely inappropriate giggle. So this was Natasha, the kind of lady that made every other female creature that was unfortunate enough to be in the same room with her fade away with her beauty. Why would anyone in the world, human or not, not want to be married to her? All the finest noblewomen of London society were nothing in comparison to her. Her hair, her skin, her stature, even her eyes, strange as they were, looked dangerously perfect, she was perfect.

Before she could stop her mind, it created a scene for her alone before her inner eye - a pale, beautiful man, and his pale, beautiful wife, both with features so exquisite that even the angels in Heaven evied them. A perfect man and a perfect woman ruling together over the underworld and all its dark glory.

But Georgiana tried in vain to find her own spot in the plot. Where did both she and her unborn child fit into this? Realisation hit her even without any help from Natasha's side. There was no place for them in this strange world. This was big, bigger than she could ever have imagined, and more than she would ever be alble to handle. She was but human, fragile and weak, with no means to compete against this female demon before her and the universe that woman represented.

This was too great a weight for her to carry. What to do?

Natasha meanwhile, had not moved a bit, her eyes being the only proof that she was indeed n ot a statue, but in fact a living creature. Those eyes, two rubies in the dim candle light, gave no insight into their owner's thoughts or mind. It was impossible for Georgiana to guess what the other woman was thinking.

However, the first to speak was again the strange lady.

"Let us get through with this dreadful business as quickly as possible, shall we? You being only a human girl of apparently low birth, I suppose you had no idea of the consequences following your actions. I don't blame you." The smile, a sickly sweet grin, she gave to the girl was more an icy grimace than anything else. Other than her eyes, her mouth gave Natasha's true feelings and thoughts away without restraint, and Georgiana knew instantly that this woman was not in the least inclined to help her. No she could not trust Natasha, of this she was positive, and she tried to brace herself for whatever would follow next.

The lady went on.

"I have a deal to propose to you. Don't be shy, I've done this many times before you, it is nothing you should worry about, but you see...my husband descends from a very old family, his bloodline is precious to our species. We cannot risk its...total extinction, do you understand?" She did not wait for a response.

"There are certain laws in our world that prohibit our kind to mingle with your race, for fear of such extinction. My husband has acted against our morals and laws. The fact that...a child was concieved causes a problem and trial will be held against both of you. The usual sentence is death."

She gave Georgiana a moment to take all the new information in before continuing. It was so strange hearing Natasha speak of trials and death, it sounded so reserved and distant, yet somehow it dawned to her that this was very serious, worse than she had imagined, though there were still things she did not quite understand.

So they would die? Cinàed, herself and their child? Just like that?

"This of course would be very...inconvenient for all involved, but luckly there is still an easy way out. Without a child, the tribunal would see no cause to investigate further against you. The problem would be resolved and you a free girl, what do you think?"

Her tone was dripping with honey, however her eyes spat flames. So this was the plan - to kill her baby in exchange for her and Cinàed's freedom? She tried very hard to fight back a gasp, and her hand flew immediately to the side of her bump. A few times she had to blink in order to keep herself from passing away right in front of the other woman.

What was she proposing? That Georgiana kill an innocent creature for her own sake? How could she become a murderer? How could she get rid of her own child?

The most horrid thing was that Georgiana began to consider the idea more and more with every second that passed. How could she? This was not simply wrong, this was the, without a doubt, most terrible thing one could think, and she was actually considering the idea. She would go straight to hell for this.

But had she not already seen hell, been embraced by its icy arms? The months she had passed without Cinàed by her side had been like living without one's heart. And it was at that moment that she realized she would never hate him for it. She was unable to hate him for not being good enough for him, for not being what he was looking for.

It was not his fault, it was no one's fault, so how could she draw him into this with her? The thought of being the one responsible for his death...it was too much! No, no, she could not do this. She would not sentence him to death, but was it right to sacrifice their child for that?

Something inside of her had hoped all the while that this had all been nothing, but a stupid joke. A silly proposal, nothing more. Natasha could not be that cruel.

However, cruelness laughed right at her face when the demonic smile on the young lady's features appeared again. "What will it be - life or death?"


	18. The Demon's Child

**Chapter 18: The Demon's Child**

A/N: Hello dear fanfiction readers! Finally I've got holidays too, and before I leave I wanted to post another chapter. I wrote this really last minute, so it's kinda rushed, but I won't have any internet connection for the next three weeks and I wanted to get this up, so sorry. Thank you for the kind reviews and the newest followers of my work. And to those anonymous readers: hey, I can't know if you like it or not if you're not telling me. Critique is great when it helps the author improving.

Wish you all three nice weeks!

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><p>„No." The word echoed lonely in the silence. You could cut the tension that was building up with a knife. Georgiana looked right into Natasha's eyes, brown meeting red. The strange lady's features froze instantly, no sign conveying her anger but her fire spitting orbs.<p>

Georgiana cleared her throat. "I do not need your help, thank you very much." The atmosphere seemed to have grown colder and she shivered.

Natasha found her countenance again and gave the girl in front of her a sly smile – an icy grimace that looked as if she could see right into Georgiana's soul and rewrite the things she read there. "Then I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time." And after a low curtsey she turned towards the door. The brunette thought that she had escaped the ordeal, but then the woman turned to face her once again. "You will come to regret your decision deeply. The court will come together tomorrow and you are to attend." The guards opened the door and together they left as quickly as they had appeared.

Georgiana wanted to laugh, to break out in fits of laughter and never stop. This whole scene had been so unreal. So that was Natasha? The wife she had dreaded until now? The wife who had stolen her happiness? She had felt such guilt and being with somebody else's husband, she had felt sorry for the poor woman. But this was just hilarious.

Georgiana had not heard from him for months, she had no part in their relationship. Of course it was natural to be angry with Georgiana, the brunette had expected nothing else, but to desire her unborn child's death! What kind of cruel joke was that?

She wanted nothing more but to laugh, but all that came out was a suppressed cry, more cough than anything else. Hot tears ran down her face. How could this happen to her? What had she done in her life?

It was his fault. Had Cinàed not attacked Edmond then she would never have gone to his castle, she would never had met him and her life would be perfect now. Edmond and she would have been married by now, have perhaps even children, ones whose existence was no trouble for anyone.

Why did she ever have to fall in love in the first place? Love makes you so vulnerable. It opens you so anybody can come and mess you up. You try to appear strong on the outside, but then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, had to come and ruin everything.

And then there was Clarice – that innocent old witch! Did that old hag even know something about magic at all? One day Cinàed was demonic, the other he was human, next to that he was half a wolf, but it will not take much longer and he will transform fully into a beast! Not even the fairy tales her mother used to tell her were so twisted.

Her breath came hard and her lungs were encaged inside her bodice. Her head was spinning and before she knew it she all of a sudden was sitting on the floor.

_Come to us…_

…_Come to us…_

_Come to us!_

Georgiana raised her hands to press them over her ears, but it would not go away. So she was hearing voices in her head too, how convenient. She would not have to stand trial; a mad person was the easiest thing to get rid of. They would send her to one of those hospitals and be done with it. She would probably die in the first few months like so many others and no one would care. Problem solved.

Ah, she had to stop with that!

She bent her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around them. What should she do? What could she do? She had caused so many problems to all. Only because she had been unable to listen to her mind instead of her heart.

And if things were not already bad enough, she could not be angry with Cinàed. She still loved him, despite his lies, despite the current situation. She loved him and the thought of anything happening to him was unbearable.

She flinched at the memories that spun through her head, the sounds that echoed in her ears and the pictures that appeared before her eyes.

His dark figure sitting at the concert grand he kept in his London apartment, the instrument crying and laughing beneath his fingers.

The lessons they had had together in Gévaudan, the long hours spent inside his rich library.

The large black beast that had saved her against a pack of wolfs on that cold winter day.

Him bleeding in her arms after he had been stabbed by Monsieur Antoine's dagger, the ruthless hunter who had been sent by the king himself to find the beast that had been terrorizing Gévaudan for months.

It all seemed so far away now, like a haze. A mere shadow compared to reality.

She decided that she would wait until the trial. Only then would she be able to fully understand the whole situation. Afterwards she would make a decision. She would have to wait.

Oh, where was Clarice when you needed her?

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><p>The witch entered the cell a while later. Georgiana had not moved in what seemed like hours, her chin resting on her knees and her arms around her legs. "Clarice!"<p>

"Shhh. They mustn't hear us." Carefully she closed the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright." She ignored the doubting look the older woman bestowed upon her. "What is going on? Why am I not allowed to leave this chamber? What do they want from me?" She was eager to stand up – a bad idea, as her limbs were shaking so hard because of the sudden movement after so long sitting in one position that her knees gave in, and had Clarice not been standing next to her at that moments she would have landed on the ground. They both settled sitting against the wall.

The witch's steady grip held her and helped her to sit down again. "Be careful, won't you. We cannot use any accidents now."

"Tell me what is going on."

"Nothing is going on. Now tell me the truth about how you're feeling right now. Are you feeling sick?"

"Slightly…but that's not important right now. What are you hiding from me?"

Clarice jerked lightly backwards when Georgiana grabbed her hands, capturing her eyes with her questioning ones.

She hesitated for a moment. Things had gotten out of control. The druid decided to risk it. "Are you hearing voices?"

"What?" That had really not been the answer Georgiana had expected. Was she joking? This was not the right moment…

"Do you hear voices? Someone speaking to you, though there's no one else in the room? Do you feel like going mad?"

"What is this? Clarice, don't you think it's not the right time-"

"Yes or no, Georgiana?" She was slowly losing her patience. This was serious and she needed to know the answer. Everyone's fate relied upon it.

Georgiana answered reluctantly. "…Yes."

The laugh the old lady let out held strange resemblance to the sound of a musket's shot. She stood up, threw her arms up the air and began shaking her head. It would have been very comical to watch, the stern lady losing control, but Georgiana felt herself unable to do anything but stare at her companion with wide eyes.

Silence laid itself over the room, the only sound was the tapping of Clarice's boots on the stone floor. It was uncomfortable and the young girl was unsure what to do. Yes, so she was mad. Why the radical reaction?

After several minutes of pacing across the chamber, Clarice returned to the pregnant girl. Her eyes were fixed upon the other women's abdomen. "So, history is repeating itself after all." Her voice no louder than a whisper and Georgiana was not sure if she had heard right.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when I told you about the boy's mother?" The boy – Cinàed. Confused, Georgiana nodded.

Clarice again sat down next to the girl. "It was basically the same story. Cinàed's father seduced his mother, she became pregnant with his child, the council came together-"

"I don't understand."

"Trial was held, not because of their union, but because of the child. You see, had Cinàed been a human infant then there would have been no reason for a trial. Humans are on so low a rank in the demons' hierarchy, his birth would not have mattered at all. But he inherited also part of his paternal side, something very rare in our midst." She paused to give the girl enough time to take her words in.

Georgiana still did not understand. Why was she telling her this now? Cinàed's mother had died years after his birth.

Clarice continued. "You see, officially a union between a human and a demon is prohibited, because of the chance of mixing the two races. Now, normally it does not matter, as in only one out of a hundred cases a child is conceived. And usually this child is fully human, not inheriting the demonic aspects of that parent. But Cinàed inherited both, a perfect hybrid."

"And?" Georgiana listened closely, even though she was confused. How could Clarice's story help them?

"As part demon he was allowed into our society and inherited his father's fortune after he had been executed by the council and the man not having other children. That was what they wanted to fight, him being the sole heir to one of the oldest bloodlines." The old woman was talking herself into a frenzy now. "And this is our problem too now."

"Our problem?"

"Cinàed's mother told me she heard voices talking to her the entire duration of the pregnancy. It was like an invisible force, controlling her emotions, all her feelings. At times it was there for hours, pulling at her mind."

Georgiana gasped at those words. So she was not going crazy after all. "I don't feel it for hours, five minutes at the most, but it gets harder and more intense every time."

Clarice nodded understanding. "Yes, it's a symptom all women carrying a demon's child go through."

"You mean, it's because of the baby?"

"It is the baby."

Silence fell. There were no words that could describe Georgiana's feelings at that point. How could this be true? Her own child putting her through such a torment? It was incomprehensible to her. How could that be? "So," she began hesitantly, "I hear these things because my child is part demon? Did I get that right?"

"Correct."

"And if my child is born it will be accepted as Cinàed's offspring in this world?"

"As his sole heir. He doesn't have any other children, and demons don't differentiate between boys and girls-"

"But that means everything will be fine."

"-and Cinàed will be executed instead." The witch's voice bore great bitterness. Her words were like knifes, cutting through Georgiana's heart.

So the question really was Cinàed's life or their baby's? Either of them must die? Only because their child happened to inherit partly the wrong genes?

"But…but I thought Cinàed was fully human now. You said so yourself. How can his child be part demon?"

Clarice thought about her answer. She could feel the girl's tensity and she felt sorry for her. Eventually she answered with the only answer she had. "I don't know. Some mutation I guess, I told you it was the first time something like that was attempted."

Georgiana's shoulders fell, her eyes shut tightly for a brief moment, as if to make it all go away. She wanted to punch something, to hit something with all force she could produce, but her limbs would not move. She felt so heavy; she could not breathe with that immense weight on her entire body.

Nobody spoke for a long time. There were so many unspoken questions in the air, but to pronounce them could only mean losing the bit of hope that somehow kept the girl from completely going mad, voices or no voices.

"And how do I fit into all of this? What part do I play for the moment?" She risked this one, uncertain if she even wanted to hear the answer.

"You are just a human girl. You are of no actual importance in this case, only needed to carry the child out until a decision is made."

The sound of breaking glass was heard unbearably loud when Georgiana turned around, found a cup she had drunken water from not ten minutes before Natasha had entered her room and brought all the misery of the world with her, and threw it at the opposite wall, were it burst into tiny pieces, exactly like her heart at that moment.


	19. Court of Angels

A/N: Hoped you all had a great summer, or are still having it :). So here's the new chap. The trial begins, but will everything go as planned? Thank you to all my readers and reviewers!

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Court of Angels<strong>

It was the first time since their arrival in this cold and shadowy prison that Georgiana was allowed to leave her chamber. Two guards, their faces hidden from her in the shadowy light and accompanied by an upset looking Clarice, were leading her through the labyrinth of corridors. No explanation had followed, no words exchanged, yet Georgiana knew that they were heading for the courtroom, or wherever that trial would take place.

Only their steps echoed between the massive stone walls of the complexion. Georgiana felt the delicate hairs on her arms rise as she thought about what awaited her.

It had just been the day before that Clarice had explained to her their current situation, when she had met her lover's wife for the first time. She and the witch had sat together for hours on the cold ground, still they had been unable to find a solution.

Georgiana stiffened when she sensed something grab her hand, and relaxed as soon as she realized it was the other woman's touch. Clarice studied her charge – for Georgiana was her charge now, or she would be lost entirely – before breaking the silence with her hurried whispers.

"Listen to me carefully from now on. You must not speak up , even if someone should speak about you with rudeness, only when you are directly addressed. But that is very unlikely. I don't know how much you know about the courts of your people, but this here will be different. You must be extremely careful not to displease them."

"Them?"

"The representatives of the oldest bloodlines will be attending, as well as the five high priests, the lords of my people. The court is led by seven judges – the Dreaghbar. They are the seven princes and rulers of our world. Their word is law and nobody dares to speak against them. It will be them who will decide your fate."

"The seven princes…are they demons as well?"

Clarice lowered her voice even more, making it harder for the girl to understand her. "In some way, yes. They are the heirs to the oldest bloodline. The sons of the Fallen Angel himself. Beware of them, Christendom has created many rumors about our Lord and his sons, and not all of them are lies."

"So the church was right about Hell and the devil?" During her whole life Georgiana had been raised in the Catholic faith. She remembered prayers and chants from the days her mother had been still alive, and she could recall those nights she had sat between Christine and Edmond, listening attentively to Adelaide's stories of beautiful angels and fallen empires. Until she had been taught to read by Cinàed, she had never known that people believed in anything else than the bible, or did not believe in religion at all. Still, it was one thing to grow up with the scriptures and an entirely different one to learn that it was true; at least up to some point.

Clarice opened her mouth to respond, but was silenced by the sight of a huge metal door, ancient symbols carved into the dark metal. She turned her head again towards the now pale girl beside her. All colour was drained from her cheeks, and her eyes widened in terrified anticipation.

"Clarice…"

"I will be at your side. I won't leave you alone in there."

This seemed to calm down the young woman, if only a little, and she bit down on her lower lip. The two guards positioned themselves beside the gate as it was opened to reveal a relatively small room with high ceilings. As one might have expected there were no windows, and no decoration adorned the bare marble walls. Along the walls ran wooden tribunes, their structure so massive and dark that they displayed a sharp contrast to the white marble of the walls. The tribunes build up a rectangle, closed by a long table of the same wood with seven seats, so large that they appeared like thrones. They were not the first to enter, as Georgiana almost immediately studied the people who would decide over her life.

What first came into her eyes was the fact that all wore long cloaks, the rest of their clothes beneath them appearing otherwise fairly normal and familiar, however made from rich fabrics in lush colours and adorned with brilliant jewels. Some of them wore wigs and if Georgiana had not known better, she would have thought herself to be at the court of the French king at Versailles, surrounded by courtiers, dukes, countesses and princes of the noblest blood. In some way she was, recalling what Clarice had told her only moments ago.

Only their blood red eyes revealed them to be something more than human.

But what really took her breath away, was the exquisite beauty that met her eyes. It was like dropping into a painting of some famous master, everywhere handsome faces, seemingly ageless and white like the stone surrounding them. She had Cinàed's still before her eyes, had met Natasha, so this race's beauty should not have been surprising to her, yet her eyes gleamed in careful admiration.

Clarice touched her elbow and shook Georgiana out of her study. Silently she lead her to a pedestal at one corner of the room, only an rectangular space of bare floor separating it from the long table at the front.

She could feel dozens of eyes following her across the room, cold and emotionless.

On the pedestal was only one seat, upon which Clarice indicated her to sit down. Georgiana allowed her eyes to wander again over the room. She could feel her insides tighten at the sight of Natasha, the beauty's lethal orbs fixed upon the girl that had been the cause of the shame that had befallen her family, befallen her.

She was seated between two men, one of which Georgiana recognized as Alexei Stravinsky, the general she had met at the ball that had changed her life, back in England such a long time ago. What was he doing here? Did he know of demons, of all this? Was that the reason why Cinàed had been so nervous to meet him at the ball? Because he was one of his kind? But why did she not remember his red eyes, a shade too dangerous striking to be ignored? She decided she would ask Clarice afterwards, when all this was over.

The doors were locked by two guards, making it impossible for anyone to leave the room before the court closed. Those who had been speaking moments ago in hushed tones, now became silent as another, much smaller door behind the judge's table opened.

One after the other, the seven princes, the lords of the underworld walked into the grave quiet, followed by everyone's gaze. No one dared move.

Despite them being brothers, they did not resemble each other in looks. One had skin as black as the night, while another one was deathly pale. One had flaming red hair, his neighbor black. Even their eyes had different shapes. One would think that, despite their immortality, the touch of time should be visible in their faces, but nothing could be further from the truth – their features were of the same unearthly beauty as all the others present. But while the lords and ladies were just beautiful, the Devil's heirs had inherited their father's dangerous spark. The power they carried was there for everybody to see.

Georgiana was unable to keep her eyes from staring.

From all the people in the room they looked the most inhuman.

As if sensing Georgiana's discomfort, Clarice bent down slightly. They both knew everyone could hear them, nevertheless the witch whispered as quiet as possible, mostly just breathing the words into the young woman's ear.

"Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan, Baal, Leviathan, Belphegor and Mephisto. Don't even think about addressing them in person. And quit staring now!" She hissed the last sentence.

As soon as they had taken their seats at the long table, the trial was officially opened. Surprisingly for Georgiana, the first one to speak was a man on her left, his voice agitated, in a language she could not understand. She recalled having heard it before, usually during Clarice and Cinàed's arguments.

It was in Draghin, a tongue older than mankind. By law no human, and be his inclinations or reasons still so good, was ever to learn it and discover this hidden world's secrets.

"_I bid you welcome, your Majesties, as well as to you, my dear friends present today. We are assembled in these ancient halls, to decide upon a matter of utter disrespect for our culture and our people. A crime so severe that I dread to even utter its name – one of our mid proved carelessness of our laws, as old as history itself, and chose to bind himself to a woman of the Common Species._

"_And additional to that. He decided to do so despite his marriage to a woman of pure blood, severing not only the bonds to a most loyal wife, but indeed to all of us."_

The translation, murmured into her right ear by a stiffened Clarice, caused shivers to crawl down Georgiana's spine. To hear these words, to finally understand the severeness with which all these people saw and judged the matter, did not leave much space for hope., This would not be a one-hour-affair. She sank more into the comfortable steadiness of her seat.

After the man had finished his speech, not without directing a sharp glance towards the young woman who in his eyes was the main cause of such a dreadful sin, he seated himself down. Now another lord, his features as angular and sharp as an eagle's and with hair the colour of a moonless night, rose. Speaking in flawless French – for as Clarice told her then, in regards to her the trial would be held in her mother tongue – caused with only one sentence every single pair of eyes to fix upon another door, almost not recognizable against the stone, to the judges' left.

"Let in the prisoner!"

The moment the hidden passage opened Georgiana thought her heart would quit beating, for the person who was lead inside was no person at all.

Gasps and growls of protest swept across the room as a giant black wolf, its fur blood-crusted and dusty, made its way to the space in the centre of the room. His black eyes, burning intensely like two charcoals, ran over one face to the next. Despite trying carefully to appear unmoved, Georgiana could feel a pang inside her heart when they just left her out in their study.

It had been so long since she last saw him, had been so close to him. She wished, longed for his beautiful orbs to set upon her, just as he must have been feeling her gaze on him. Her body, in recognition to his own even from afar, craved for his touch, his smile, the sound for his voice. Her fingernails dug into the seat's armrests, keeping her in her place. Without something to grab unto she would have probably stood up and that would have served neither of them well.

Only slowly did the noise quiet down, some lords refusing even to sit down again. Uncertain of how to react, the young Frenchwoman looked up into her companions calculating features, but the witch remained silent.

"Please, Ladies and Gentlemen, do calm down." It was the second speaker, Lord Marcus Augustinus, once general of the Gallic legions under Julius Caesar's command, who convinced them to continue.

"My Lord Ó Mathúna, what is the meaning of this?" His deep voice vibrated with outrage. He indicated to the dark creature in front of him, as two guards positioned themselves ready to interfere should the wolf plan to escape or even attack. The air was filled with unspeakable tension. No one dared make a sound.

The next thing that happened was not only for Georgiana a terrible surprise. The atmosphere was ripped by a sharp white light, burning in the eyes like fire. It was of course not the first time she had encountered this before, but usually the light had lingered there for the tiniest of moments, before it gradually faded. Now it was like a lightning had run though the entire hall, a loud ripping sound accompanying it. Before anyone got the chance to even blink, the radiance had vanished completely, and instead of a huge black beast, a dark-haired, pale-faced young man stood facing the judges.

His raven locks framed his face wildly, falling partially before his eyes. He wore nothing but a loose shirt and a pair of black breeches, clutching to his body as if wet. Everywhere were stains in various shades of red and brown and part of his right sleeve was torn. His high cheekbones were drained of every colour, the sensually curved mouth glowing slightly bluish, and he had grown dark stubble. Altogether he created the most awful sight Georgiana had ever beheld.

Cinàed looked beaten and starved, and God only knew what had happened to him. It frightened her to see him like that.

Yet at that moment she realized just how much she had missed him. Beaten and dirty, he was the man she loved, nothing would ever be able to change that.

She watched his chest rise and fall, listened to his hard panting, the only sound in the room.

"This, my lords and ladies, is to what I was condemned to by your command!" His voice, the beautiful sound she had missed with her entire being, was calm and sound, if not a little rough. Masking his true feelings through sarcasm, he smiled while bowing at Lord Marcus.

"How dare you make fun of us by dishonoring this ceremony?"

"Dishonoring?" His eyes widened in false shock. "I would never think of dishonoring _my dear friends_." Again the crowd stirred by the sound of his mocking tone. Cinàed's arms were held away from his body as if to undermine his innocence in that respect.

After the men and women had quiet down again, the actual interrogation began. Georgiana sat on the edge of her seat all though the questioning. With every question that came, Cinàed would continue making remarks about everyone and everything present, would switch from mockery to deep hatred and back, and refusing to answer any of the queries. Some thought he was in some kind of delirium, as he would not stop degrading them. Others said he must have lost his mind. The guards could hold him back by grabbing his arms, but his mouth would not shut.

"Out with him!"

"He's a shame to us all!"

All shouts were interrupted by a loud clear voice, coming from the judges' table. A man with mahogany hair and Mediterranean looks had stood up. "The court shall meet again tomorrow. Until then it would be best if the convict would remind himself of the company he is in." As he said this his eyes fixed Georgiana with a penetrating gaze.

With this the judges left the room one after the other, and Cinàed was brought away through the hidden door.

Surprise was the only thing that held everybody still on their seats.


End file.
